chapter 34

 

 

“Andira…wake up.”

“I can feel you. You’re almost there.”

“Please, tyrina. Come the rest of the way.”

“No change?”

Tal felt as if she were floating up from a deep, heavy darkness. She could hear Salomen’s voice but the words made no sense, not until the deeper tones of Micah registered. She wanted to wake, to tell them she was all right, but everything seemed so slow.

“No.” Salomen’s voice again. “I can feel her; she’s just under the surface. Thank Fahla I at least have that. If we hadn’t Shared I think I’d be going insane right about now.”

“She’ll be all right. Healer Tornell is the best in her field. If she says the damage can be repaired, then it can.”

“I know. It’s just so hard to see her like this.”

“Like what?” mumbled Tal. She heard a gasp and felt a light hand on the back of her neck.

“Thank the Goddess!” Salomen’s voice was right in her ear. “Fahla, you frightened me most of the way to my Return!” Soft lips kissed her neck, and Tal managed to open her eyes. She quickly shut them again; the room was far too bright.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Salomen’s laugh was halfway to a sob. “Don’t you dare apologize to me.” She kissed Tal’s neck again, her lips lingering before pulling away with a reluctance that Tal was just barely able to sense.

“All right. But tell me what I look like.”

“Like something the fanten stomped over and refused to eat,” said Micah.

“Thanks, Micah. I can always depend on you.”

“Can you open your eyes?” asked Salomen.

“I think so.” Tal carefully opened her eyes a bare slit, testing the brightness and finding it tolerable this time. She widened the slit and blinked several times, confused by the fact that she saw nothing but a field of light blue. Finally her brain kicked in and she realized that she was looking at a floor. “No blue floors in Hol-Opah,” she said. “Are we in Blacksun?”

Salomen’s face appeared at the edge of her vision. “Yes. We’re in the health center. How are you feeling?”

“Like something the fanten stomped over and refused to eat,” she said. “Though a good deal better than before.”

Micah’s face appeared next to Salomen’s. “I was joking, Andira. You don’t look bad, considering what might have been.”

“Healer Tornell says you’ll be on your feet in half a nineday,” said Salomen. “Your back is badly burned, and you have a few burns on your legs as well. But she says the damage is easily repaired. The hard part will be staying on this restriction bed for four or five days while the gelpacks are working.”

“I’m not staying like this for four or five days.” Tal shifted her head in the padded ring supporting it, wanting to look at them more directly. She frowned when she found them crouched down in order to see her. “Do they not have chairs in this center?”

Salomen sat crosslegged on the floor and Micah soon followed, though with far less grace. “None low enough for this,” Salomen said. “Fahla, it’s good to see you awake.”

“It’s good to see you, too.” Tal frowned. “But I can’t feel you. I can’t feel anything.”

With a trembling smile, Salomen caressed her face. “That’s the medication. It blocks your empathic senses as well as your pain receptors.”

Tal remembered now. She’d required that medication on other occasions, with the same result. It was the worst thing about being under the care of a healer. She stared at Salomen, trying with all her might to break through, but all she could pick up were whispers of emotions. “I would almost prefer the pain,” she said. “To go from a Sharing to this—”

“I know. I’ve been trying to tell myself that this is more of Fahla’s sense of humor.”

Tal looked at her more closely, seeing the signs of past worry and fear. “Are you all right?” she asked.

“Thanks to you, yes.”

“That’s not what I meant.” She was starting to feel a little more in command of herself. “You were Sharing my pain.”

“It’s gone, Andira. It vanished as soon as I let you go. I’m tired, but all right.”

“Thank Fahla.” She searched her tyree’s eyes; there was so much more to say. But not with Micah there. “What time is it?” she asked instead.

“Morn-two.”

“So it’s only been a few hanticks, then.” She looked at Micah. “Did you get him?”

“Yes, we did. He’s in custody on the base. Colonel Razine has already questioned him; I asked her to take care of it personally.”

“And the weapon?”

“It was a plasma gun. He claims it has been in his family for three generations, and Gordense and Iversina confirm it. Apparently one of Gordense’s grandmothers was warrior caste.”

“A plasma gun?” That made no sense. “Nobody uses a plasma gun for a long-range sniper shot. They’re not accurate enough.”

“We think this was an isolated action,” said Micah. “Cullom is not a strong empath; Colonel Razine had no difficulty with him. According to her report, he was acting entirely of his own volition. So it was not exactly a well-planned or well-equipped mission.”

Micah never was able to dissemble well, Tal thought. “My senses may be blocked,” she said, “but I know there’s something you’re not telling me. I want to see that report.”

“Perhaps you should wait until you’re feeling a little better,” he suggested.

“I’m feeling well enough. Give me the report, Micah.”

Micah looked at Salomen, who nodded. Tal narrowed her eyes in irritation. “I don’t recall abdicating my authority to Salomen,” she said. “My brain is still functioning quite well, thank you. What are you two hiding?”

Without a word, Salomen got up and left the room. Tal watched her in confusion for as far as she could crane her neck, looking back at Micah when she heard the door shut. “What is going on?”

He sighed. “This hasn’t been easy for her, Tal.”

“I…I know that.” Damn, but she hated feeling like this. “Micah, I’m blind as a sonsales and I don’t know what’s happening, but something obviously is. Please, just tell me the truth. I can handle it.”

Even now he hesitated, and she began to worry. Something was seriously wrong.

“Cullom had help,” he said at last. “Plasma guns may be inaccurate, but they’re good enough if all you need to do is hit a large window.”

She stared at him, trying to see what he was leading to. “So he knew that was my room? But…” A shock ran down her spine. “And he knew I sat in that seat, didn’t he? At a regular time each night. He had inside information.” There was only one person it could have been.

Micah nodded. “We’re still looking for Herot.”

“Oh, Fahla,” Tal groaned. “Oh, no. Salomen…”

“She has the bearing of a warrior.” Micah spoke with considerable admiration. “You would not guess to look at her that she nearly died because of her own brother.”

“I’ll kill him with my bare hands,” growled Tal. “That fantenshekken! He’d best run long and far, because when I find him I will tear him limb from limb, as slowly and painfully as possible.”

“And you will lose Salomen,” said Micah sharply. “This isn’t you talking, Tal. You’ve got some powerful drugs in your system and one of them is interfering with your emotional control. Healer Tornell told us to expect it.”

Tal closed her eyes. Perfect. Maybe she really should abdicate temporarily. No senses, no emotional control, and no ability to do anything except lie in this damned bed and let everyone else deal with the crisis. “All right,” she said. “At least knowing that allows me to recognize it. Just tell me everything, Micah. I promise to take no action until Healer Tornell and I can come to an agreement about my medication.”

“She won’t take you off the drugs until she deems it safe,” said Micah. “So don’t bother giving her orders. You’re under her authority right now.”

“I am under no—” Tal stopped and calmed herself. She seemed to be rather volatile, and vowed that whichever drug was causing that was the first one she would stop taking. “I’ll take care of Tornell,” she said more quietly. “But right now we need to deal with what happened, and I can’t begin to do that until I have all the facts.”

He watched her for a moment before giving her a slight smile. “You’re right, you won’t be here for half a nineday. The healers will no doubt throw you out before then.”

“Good.” She looked at him expectantly.

“There isn’t much to tell,” he said. “Cullom Bilsner was intercepted while still on Hol-Opah land, thanks to your information on his location. The three outer guards were at different areas on the holding, and he had the luck to time it just right so that none of them were in empathic range. We can thank Herot for that. If Bilsner hadn’t been told that all he had to do was hit the window, he would have required a much closer approach and would have been well within range of our empathic net. He would never have gotten off a shot.”

“But Herot told him that I sit in the window seat every evening after evenmeal, so all he had to do was wait until he could see a shape in the window through the targeting lens.” Tal could see the scene in her mind. “Which, of course, is easy to see at night when the room is lit.”

“Correct. Actually, he didn’t wait at all. As I said, this was not a professional mission. He had apparently been drinking at the tavern with Herot, and left after a conversation in which Herot told him that you…well, that you thought you were untouchable with your Guards, but anybody could kill you without half trying. When Bilsner pressed him on it, Herot was apparently very forthcoming, explaining that you could be taken out with a simple shot through the correct window from the east end of Hol-Opah. He also informed Bilsner that only three Guards were patrolling the outer ranges of the property.”

Tal could hardly believe it. “He may as well have taken the shot himself. What was he thinking? I knew he was angry, but I never sensed that kind of anger. How could he hate me that much and hide it?”

“I don’t know. Neither does Salomen. She doesn’t believe he did, but right now we’re all questioning our assumptions about him.”

Tal hoped that wherever Herot was, he was terrified out of his mind. He deserved that and so much more. “What a shekking disaster,” she said. “So Bilsner left the tavern, probably worse for the spirits, and decided to act out a little fantasy.”

“Yes, after stopping by his house to pick up the plasma gun, which his father kept in a case in their parlor.”

“And Gordense didn’t question his son flying off into the night, drunk and carrying their heirloom plasma gun?”

“He says he never saw his son return from the tavern. I wouldn’t have believed him, frankly, but I took Gehrain with me and he confirms that Gordense was telling the truth.”

“Ironic,” said Tal. “Here we’ve always been so concerned about a professional attempt by someone in the warrior or scholar caste who wanted to create an opening for themselves. And when it finally happens, it’s a young, spoiled producer who gets drunk and decides to go out and kill the Lancer before bedtime.”

“With considerable help from his drinking partner, Herot Opah,” said Micah in disgust.

“Does the rest of the family know yet?”

He shook his head. “They’re shaken up enough as it is, what with half the room being destroyed by a plasma blast. Salomen spoke with Nikin a hantick ago; they were still cleaning up the mess.”

“Tell Aldirk to authorize any funds they need for repairs. They don’t need to worry about expenses on top of everything else. Do we have any leads on Herot’s whereabouts?”

“Not yet. The owner of the tavern says he left half a hantick after Bilsner did, but none of the Opahs ever saw him. I’m still trying to guess his state of mind. Did he have no idea that Bilsner would act on his information, and that’s why he stayed at the tavern? Or did he know what Bilsner planned, and stayed precisely for that reason?”

“And Bilsner can’t tell us that,” said Tal.

“No. We need to find Herot. I’ve lent half my unit to Colonel Razine for the search; she needs every high empath she can find.”

Tal processed that for a few moments, then asked, “What about the media?”

“It hasn’t been publicized yet. Miltorin is holding a media conference in five hanticks. He will be giving out only the facts of an attempted assassination, that you sustained minor injuries from which you will fully recover—we didn’t think it wise to advertise just how badly you were actually hurt—and that the criminal has been identified and contained.” For the first time in his report, Micah hesitated. “In the absence of instructions to the contrary, I told Miltorin to keep Herot’s name out of it.”

“You did right, Micah. Though he does not deserve the consideration, his family does. But we’ll need to prepare them for the inevitable. Herot’s absence won’t go unnoticed, and I cannot imagine that staying out of the media for long.”

“No, it won’t. But at least we can give them a little room to breathe.”

“A very little. Fahla, what a mess. It couldn’t get much worse, could it?”

“Oh, yes,” he said quietly. “It could have been far, far worse.”

The room was silent while both of them were no doubt thinking the same thing. “Micah,” said Tal, “can you ask Salomen to come back in?”

“Certainly. Salomen!” Micah called loudly.

Tal glared. “I could have done that myself.”

“You could have, but you asked me to.”

The door opened, and a moment later Salomen was settling down next to Micah. When she looked up, Tal felt her heart clench in her chest. Salomen had been crying.

“Now you know,” she said softly. “I’m so sorry, Andira. I have no defense for my brother; he’s brought dishonor to our name even if this was not intentional.”

Tears were rising in Tal’s eyes as well. Damned medication! “Micah,” she said, “I need to see Salomen alone.”

To her confusion, Micah turned to Salomen and said, “Will you aid an old warrior?”

“You’re not old,” she said. “Just slightly dented.” She rose, then leaned down and took Micah’s arm in both of hers. As she helped him to his feet, Tal gasped.

“Micah! Your hands!”

He held them up and looked at them as if he hadn’t noticed that they were encased in gel gloves. “As Salomen said, I’m slightly dented.”

“He burned nearly all the skin off his hands trying to get the molten glass off you,” said Salomen.

Tal stared, the realization sending shivers all the way to her toes. “That was Fahla’s sign.”

Salomen and Micah looked at each other, then at Tal. “We hadn’t thought of that,” said Micah, and Salomen nodded.

“Too much else to think of,” she added.

“It was never about me,” said Tal wonderingly. “Her sign was about you.”

“Perhaps it was about both of you,” said Salomen.

“Perhaps.” Micah looked at his hands again. “Or perhaps it was about more than that. I believe I’ll go have a cup of shannel and give this some consideration. Call me if you need me.”

As he walked toward the door, Tal said, “Micah—thank you. You’re one of the reasons it wasn’t worse.” He would say it was merely his duty, but truly it required a special kind of courage to voluntarily put one’s hands in fire.

He stopped, his back to her. “You owe me no thanks, Andira.” A moment later the door shut behind him.

Salomen returned to her spot on the floor. “He’s very upset. He feels responsible.”

“He cannot be responsible for the fact that Bilsner was given privileged and very specific information.” Tal barely stopped herself from adding, by your own shekking excuse for a brother. “Nobody can guard against that.”

“Maybe not, but that’s what I’m sensing.” Salomen scooted closer. “I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to wake up, and now that you have, I don’t know what to say. You have every right to your anger.”

Tal closed her eyes. The bond. Salomen could feel everything now, but thanks to the damned drugs, it only went one way. “I’m sorry you felt that,” she said. “Yes, I’m angry, but I don’t know how much is me and how much is the medication. Mostly I’m worried about you.”

“I’m not the one in the restriction bed.”

Tal carefully moved her arm, finding it apparently functional, and slipped it off the support. She could no longer bear having Salomen so close and not be in physical contact. As soon as Salomen felt the hand on her cheek she reached up to hold it there, her face crumpling.

“I’m so sorry,” she choked. “So sorry. You were hurt so badly, Fahla, I tried to help you but even that little bit that I could Share was unbearable, and I couldn’t hold it…”

“Shhh, Salomen, please.” The tears were falling straight from Tal’s eyes onto the floor beneath her. “Please, don’t do this to yourself. None of this was your fault. And you helped me more than you know. It wasn’t a ‘little bit’ that you took from me, it was a great deal. I saw what it did to you, and it broke my heart.”

Salomen sniffed. “How do you think my heart felt when I let go? You were in agony because I wasn’t strong enough.”

“Oh, tyrina.” Tal smiled sadly. “If you were any stronger you would not be Alsean. I’ve never seen anything like what you did. It humbled me.”

Salomen gave a short, bitter laugh. “I humbled you? If you could feel me, you’d know how ridiculous that is.”

“And if you’re feeling me right now, then you know this is the truth. I love you, Salomen. I’m sorry that I didn’t have the courage to say it earlier. I felt it; I just couldn’t say it. And now I don’t even remember why.”

A fresh surge of tears streamed from Salomen’s eyes as she turned her head and kissed Tal’s palm before lacing their fingers together. “I told you not to say it until it came from your heart.”

“It does,” Tal whispered. “You know that.”

Salomen nodded. “I do. And I’ve known it for a while; probably longer than you did. That’s partly why I put off our Sharing. Most people need the Sharing to show what’s in their hearts, but I had already seen yours. To me, the benefit of it was far outweighed by the consequences.”

“Is it still?” asked Tal, knowing the answer.

She smiled through her tears. “If I hadn’t had this connection with you, I’d have gone crazy the moment you passed out on top of me. I thought you were dead at first, but then I felt a tiny little thread that had never been there before. It was holding us together, and it never broke all these hanticks I’ve been waiting for you to wake up.” Her mouth twisted suddenly. “I could hate Herot for taking this from us. Because of him, our first Sharing was torture. And because of him, I’m alone in this bond. All this time I put it off because of my fear, and now that I want our full connection, it’s not there. You’re sonsales.”

“Only for a few days. After that you won’t be able to get me back out of your mind again. And you don’t hate Herot.” This Tal knew even if she couldn’t feel it. “You cannot. He’s your brother.”

“If we find out that he did this intentionally, he is not my brother. I will not share our mother’s name with him, and I doubt Father would share his either.”

Retraction of a family name was one of the greatest punishments that could be incurred outside the justice system, and Tal could not believe Salomen would actually do it. “Then for all of our sakes,” she said, “I hope he was just a drunken fool.”

“So do I.” Salomen sniffed, using her free hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks. “I’m also extremely angry that after all this waiting, we’re finally at the point of being able to touch each other without fear and I still can’t touch you.”

“You are right now,” Tal pointed out, but her effort at light humor was met with a glare.

“You know what I mean.”

“Yes, I do. But tyrina, in just a few days I’ll be on my feet, good as new. And that same evening you and I will join, and we will Share the way we should have tonight—with nothing between our bodies or our minds. I have a few fantasies to fulfill, mostly involving seeing and touching you in ways I never could before. And our minds will fly.” She smiled. “We flew tonight, even under the worst possible circumstances. Just think what we can do when the circumstances are right.”

“I am.” Salomen gave her a watery smile in return. “Thank Fahla we’re both still here. I’d have been seriously upset if one of us went to our Return before we ever got a chance to join or to Share properly.”

That sounded more like the Salomen she knew. “Fahla would never let it happen. Not even she would incur your wrath lightly.”

“You wouldn’t let it happen, either,” said Salomen. “I know you’re going to tell me this isn’t necessary, but I believe it is. Thank you, Andira. First for saving my life, and then for saving my body.”

Tal opened her mouth before realizing that she was indeed about to say exactly what Salomen had predicted. Instead, she squeezed her tyree’s hand and said, “Well, I had to get you out of that window seat one way or another. I told you it was mine.”

Salomen kissed the back of her hand. “Next time, you can have it.”

 

 

 

 

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chapter 35

 

 

Healer Tornell was an older woman whose stature made Tal look like a giant. She had hands like the wings of fairy flies, and the voice of Fahla herself. She also had the most intractable, overbearing personality that Tal had ever come across. At the first opportunity Tal informed Tornell that she would no longer be taking the paincounters, and Tornell informed her that she might be Lancer outside the dome of the healing center, but inside she was just another patient and would be best advised to leave the healing to the experts. When Tal stated that she’d rather be uncomfortable than empathically blind, Tornell suggested that she hadn’t a dokker’s idea of what “discomfort” meant in this situation. Tal pointed out that she most certainly did, having experienced a rather high level of it recently, and Tornell noted rather snidely that the result of that particular experience had been unconsciousness, at which point she was empathically blind anyway, so what was the difference?

Tal was unused to having her direct orders so blithely brushed aside, and was left sputtering with indignation. She greeted Tornell’s second visit as a personal challenge, but fared no better. The third time she summoned all of her powers of intimidation—which were admittedly rather limited given her position on the restriction bed—and Tornell merely seemed amused. But on the second day Tornell did indeed take her off the paincounters, so Tal felt that a victory had been achieved. The fact that her recovery had progressed to the point where the paincounters were no longer absolutely necessary did not diminish her achievement. As it was, her back felt like an entire swarm of biting flies was walking around on it, occasionally sinking their barbed mouthparts into her flesh. Tornell explained that this was the result of the accelerated healing process, and that if she thought that was bad, she should wait for the itching, which would begin the next day.

She wasn’t kidding; on the third day Tal would have scratched all the new skin off her back if she could have. The leg burns were shallower and didn’t itch nearly so much, thank Fahla. Micah sat in the room with her, gritting his teeth over his itching hands, and they commiserated about unsympathetic and arrogant healers who simply smiled at their complaints and said the itching was a good sign.

“How can anything that feels like this be good?” grumbled Micah, holding his hands under his armpits to keep himself from scratching. Not that he could have anyway; the gel gloves prevented access to his hands just as the gel packs prevented Tal from reaching her own back.

“I think they mean in the same way that our parents told us that fanten brains were good for us,” said Tal.

“Ugh. I hate fanten brains. It doesn’t matter how they’re cooked, they’re still disgusting.”

“I know. But they were right, the brains are good for us.”

“I prefer to get my vitamins from a different source, thank you.”

“At least you get to sit in a chair,” Tal pointed out. “I’m still flat on my face.”

“Not quite flat,” he said. Which was true; on the second day Tal’s thick gel packs had been changed out for the thinner, lightweight versions that could be easily strapped in place. With the new packs strapped on, the healers were able to raise her restriction bed into an angled position. Now Tal was upright enough to look straight out through the head support and see visitors in their chairs, a vast improvement over her earlier prone position. She could also rotate the bed at will, enabling her to take the full weight off her front by shifting the bed to different angles. Steep angles required that her arms and legs be cuffed to the bed, a concept she found untenable, so she contented herself with shallower angles and frequent changes. But she couldn’t move, not with the skin still growing, and was intensely envious of Micah’s freedom.

“It’s a damned good thing they took me off that anti-infection agent today,” she grumbled. “At least now I have some modicum of control over my emotions. Otherwise this shekking itching would have me more than happy to murder the next healer who comes in here and tells me I should be glad about it. Maybe it is a good sign, but I’d like to see one of them feel like this and then give us that little speech!”

Her rant was interrupted when she sensed Salomen leaving the restaurant she’d gone to for midmeal. An unbidden smile on her face caused Micah to chuckle.

“So much for controlling your emotions,” he said. “Just from that expression I can guess that Salomen has finished her meal. Really, Tal, she’s here so much that I’m unsure what you’ve accomplished by not moving into a family unit.”

“Suspicion is one thing, Micah. Overt proof is another.” As bondmates—even though it had not yet been consecrated by a bond minister—Tal and Salomen had the right to a family unit, which would offer Salomen a place to sleep and store her personal effects while watching over her mate’s healing. But the Sharing had happened too soon; Salomen’s Guards were not yet fully assembled or trained. Tal would not risk revealing Salomen’s new status until she could guarantee some protection.

Micah looked at her wistfully. “It must be amazing to sense her from so far away.”

“It is.” Tal knew she had a stupid grin on her face, but she didn’t care. “It’s the most incredible, glorious thing, and I have no idea why I was ever afraid of it. Salomen says it was instant for her, but my senses only came active as the paincounter wore off, so for me it was much more gradual. I think I preferred my experience, because I had the joy of actually feeling it grow stronger and stronger every tick. It’s beyond anything I imagined, Micah. Truly a gift of Fahla—all the richness of her emotions as if she were right here in this room.”

“So you no longer have doubts about sharing every emotion? I still have a difficult time imagining that.”

“I know. I thought I would feel naked as a newborn. But I’ve had a lot of time to think in here, and recently I’ve realized something. We only keep our fronts up when we’re invested in preventing others from knowing how we feel. And we’re only invested in that for a few reasons: we worry about someone taking advantage of us, or of being seen as inappropriate or unworthy. We’re afraid to appear weak or vulnerable, or else we’re afraid of hurting someone else with our emotions. There are other reasons, but I think those are the most common.”

“True,” he agreed. “And now you’re no longer invested in preventing Salomen from knowing your emotions.”

“I haven’t been since the speaking tour. The reality is that I had already dropped my front with her. So the only thing that has changed is that I can no longer raise it, but the truth is I wouldn’t want to. It would hurt her, and I’d be equally hurt if she shut me out. Any pain our emotions may cause each other pales next to that.”

He gave her an approving smile. “Well done, Andira. To think that only a cycle ago, you told me that warriors did not give their hearts.”

“And you told me that was dokshin.” Tal grinned. “I was shocked by your disrespect toward the Truth and the Path.”

“Welcome to the ranks of the disrespectful,” he said, and they both laughed.

The door swung open to admit Healer Tornell, who surveyed them with an expression implying that she’d caught them doing something entirely inappropriate. Then she smiled, to Tal’s complete surprise. She hadn’t known Tornell was capable of it.

“I see you’re feeling better,” the healer said, walking to Tal and unstrapping her gel packs. “I will take that as a testament to our skill in the face of opposition from the patient.”

“Take it as a testament to friendship,” said Tal. “Micah has been at least as beneficial as these packs. And he irritates me far less.”

“Not for lack of trying,” said Micah.

“I suspected as much,” said Tornell. “Being irritating is clearly a trait that warriors aspire to. I’ve treated enough from the base to speak from experience.” She removed the packs gently, dropping them into a sterilizing and recharging unit before beginning her examination. “This is looking quite well,” she said with satisfaction. “You’re healing nicely. Barring anything unexpected, your skin will be established enough for movement tomorrow. Gentle movement,” she added sternly.

“Meaning I can leave?”

“Meaning you will no longer be gracing us with your presence, yes. And we will miss your sparkling personality.” She moved down to Tal’s legs and made a sound of satisfaction as she lifted the small pads covering the burns there. “Excellent. These no longer need pads. Another dose of salve and that should be it.” She pulled a small jar from a drawer and began applying the salve with a touch so gentle that it lulled Tal into a state of relaxation.

“That actually feels good,” she said.

“Imagine that,” said Tornell. “It is possible to feel good in a healing center.”

Tal was saved from a response by Salomen’s approach. She looked toward the door in anticipation, a rush of happiness flowing through her as her tyree walked in. “Hello,” she said, barely managing not to call her “tyrina” in front of Tornell. “So I was right, yes?”

“You know you were.” Salomen sat in the chair by Micah. “Corsine himself should visit that restaurant. It was sublime.”

Tal caught the unspoken ending of the sentence; she’d felt it when Salomen was at the restaurant. “We can go there later this nineday if you like,” she said, and felt Salomen’s flash of gratitude.

“That would be lovely. There were several things on the menu I wanted to try, and not enough space in my stomach.”

They smiled at each other, knowing that they would make up for Salomen dining alone today. They had a great deal of making up to do.

“You’re being released, then?” asked Salomen.

“More like thrown out, I think.”

Tornell had an impeccable front—a necessity for a healer—but Tal nevertheless thought she could detect amusement. “We shall be sorry to see you leave, Raiz Opah,” she said. “You have been the voice of reason. I wish you good fortune in your bond with Lancer Tal.”

Tal, Salomen and Micah all looked at each other in dismay.

“Is it that obvious?” asked Salomen.

Tornell chuckled as she began applying new gel packs to Tal’s back. “Not empathically, no. You both have excellent fronts, though the Colonel here gives more away than he thinks. But a nonranking producer is not normally among those with free access to the Lancer. And after listening to this same producer vehemently pleading the case of our Lancer’s request to withhold paincounters, I became somewhat suspicious. You’ve been in this room so often that I wondered why you did not request a family unit.”

“Because we wished to keep it a secret,” said Tal.

“Of course you do,” said Tornell. She tapped Tal’s shoulder, and Tal raised her torso enough to allow the straps to be passed beneath her. “Rest assured it will never be revealed by anyone in this center. We all wish you the best.” With a light touch, she tightened the straps and tapped the shoulder again. As Tal settled herself, Tornell moved around to stand by Salomen and Micah. Even seated, they were nearly as tall as she was. “And how are your legs, Raiz Opah?” she asked.

“I can barely even see where I was burned anymore,” said Salomen. “I stopped applying the salve today.”

“Good.” Tornell nodded in satisfaction. “Smaller burns are so much easier to heal; I was certain we could take care of you quickly.”

When Salomen had revealed her own burns two days earlier, Tal had nearly gone through the roof. There were only four, but that was four more than she had expected. It had taken Salomen a while to calm her down, explaining that she hadn’t wanted to worry her with something so minor. In truth, the burns were deep, but they were also small and had healed quickly. It had taken Tal a while to adapt to the realization that she hadn’t been able to fully protect her tyree, but as Salomen had pointed out, doing so would have required Tal to balance entirely atop Salomen once she’d rolled them over.

Tal watched as Salomen pulled the loose cloth of her pants up, exposing her legs to Tornell’s inspection. From where she was lying, Tal couldn’t see so much as a blemish on them, which reduced but could not eradicate her sorrow. Salomen should never have been hurt, and Herot had a lot to answer for.

“They’re beautiful,” said Tornell. “Absolutely perfect; you won’t be able to find any sign of them in another few days.”

“Thanks largely to you.” Salomen tugged her pants legs back down again. “I appreciate the care you’ve given all of us, Healer Tornell. But in defense of my bondmate I must tell you I’m not the only voice of reason here. Lancer Tal is a good deal more reasonable than you think. It’s just…difficult for her to be so restricted in her movements.”

“It’s difficult for anyone to be restricted,” said Tornell. “Most people manage it without assuming they know a healer’s art.”

“I never said I knew the healer’s art,” said Tal. “I only said I knew what was best for my own healing.”

“That is the same thing.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Of course it is.”

Salomen made a small snort, bringing everyone’s attention to her. Tal raised an eyebrow at her tyree’s mirth.

“Don’t mind me,” said Salomen. “You two go right on arguing over who rules the playground.”

Micah turned his face away, while Tornell frowned. “There is no point in arguing,” she said. “The ruler of this playground has been well established.” She strode regally from the room.

“Now I understand the true meaning of tyranny,” Tal observed. It was all that was needed to set Micah and Salomen off; they roared with laughter.

“Fahla,” gasped Micah, “I needed that.”

Salomen was still chuckling. “I do believe you’ve met your match, Andira. You are Lancer of nothing in here.” She sobered. “But her skill has no match either. I cannot believe you will be walking only four days after the damage I saw.”

“But she will only be walking,” noted Micah. “I distinctly heard Healer Tornell say that Tal could engage in gentle movement only. So you two won’t require a private room tomorrow night.”

“Weren’t you just leaving, Micah?” asked Tal.

“Actually, I was.” Micah stretched his legs first, his arms more carefully, and stood up. “I’m working with Salomen’s Guard unit in a hantick, but I need to check in with Colonel Razine first.”

Salomen’s mood shifted instantly; her worry was never far from the surface. “It’s not looking good for him, is it?”

Micah looked to Tal for help.

“The longer he stays out, the more it would seem he’s guilty,” said Tal. “But we won’t know anything for certain until we can speak with him directly. He cannot be judged in his absence.” She knew she’d already done just that, but her own private thoughts had nothing to do with the law. Unfortunately, the media had learned of Herot’s involvement and disappearance, thanks to Gordense Bilsner’s ill advised public statement the day before, and had promptly judged him as well. Salomen had been furious, stating that the only motive Gordense could have had was to spread the dishonor and divert some of it from his son.

“We’ll find him,” said Micah. “The truth always comes out. We can only hope that the truth favors Herot.”

“I know.” Salomen got up and held her palm out to Micah. He presented his forearm—not nearly so sensitive as the palm, but a good substitute when necessary. As they touched, she said, “Good luck with my Guards. I look forward to meeting them.”

He gave her a slight bow, then smiled. “They have no idea what they’re in for.” With a wave, he was out the door.

“I cannot wait to see you meeting your Guards,” said Tal. She was relieved over Salomen’s change of opinion regarding their presence in her life; an about face that had occurred only yesterday when Salomen had received her first report on them.

Salomen pulled her chair closer and sat down. “I finished reading over their histories at midmeal. Imagine my surprise when I realized that seven out of the ten have a producer parent.”

Tal tried to look as if she were surprised as well. “Is that right? What a coincidence.”

“Really, Andira, I can’t believe you even attempt that anymore.” But Salomen could no more pretend exasperation than Tal could fake surprise; if her emotions didn’t give her away, her dancing eyes would. “Thank you. It was very thoughtful, and it makes me feel more comfortable with the idea of having them. Though I admit I was already somewhat reconciled to the concept after coming a little too close to a plasma blast.”

“It will be awkward at first,” said Tal. “But I know you’ll demonstrate your usual grace in dealing with them. They’re a lucky bunch of warriors.”

Salomen waved that off. “What are you going to do about Colonel Micah?”

Tal sighed. “I can’t do anything. He’s trying very hard to front his feelings about that night, and it would be an invasion of his privacy to ask him about them when he clearly doesn’t want me to know. I’ve told him that I don’t hold him responsible and that I don’t believe the situation could have been foreseen, and that’s all I can do right now. I know Micah; he’ll talk to me sooner or later. My guess is that he doesn’t want to do it in here.”

“It’s ironic,” said Salomen. “I always thought one of the greatest things about being open with my talent would be not having to hide what I can sense. And yet you still hide your knowledge—but you do it to keep other people’s secrets instead of your own.”

“Only some of them,” said Tal. “Other times I take far less care in exposing what’s behind a front. It depends on the situation.”

“Well, I’m tired of hiding it,” said Salomen. “When we first began my training, the chance to be openly empathic with even one person was a dazzling freedom. And now it’s not enough anymore. I want to tell my family, Andira.” She rubbed her forehead wearily. “But I don’t think right now is the time. Damn Herot for that, too.”

“Tyrina,” said Tal gently. “Now might be the perfect time. Yes, they may be hurt that you never said anything before, but that can’t last long when they think about the possible repercussions you faced as a girl of ten cycles. And once they move past that point, how could they not be proud of you? I’ll be more than happy to tell them just how gifted you are, and how hard you’ve worked to control your gift. You might just give them something to hold on to—a family member to be proud of, as a balance for the one who is causing them so much pain. Maybe you’re exactly what they need right now.”

“Hm.” Salomen stared off into space, then met Tal’s eyes with a hopeful smile. “Maybe we’re exactly what they need right now.”

“Maybe. Shall we make that our first stop after getting out of here?”

“I would like that. And I think Father needs it. The vid message you sent hasn’t really convinced him that you don’t blame our family. I’ve told him you’re seeing no one but your closest advisors right now, but…”

“I know,” said Tal. “But I stand by my decision. Truly, I think it would hurt your father and brothers more to see me in here. It would give them a visceral reinforcement for a shame they should not feel.”

“And I agree with your decision,” she said. “It’s been difficult enough for me to see you here; I don’t think Father or Nikin would soon recover from it. But for Father, truth lies in the action, not the telling of it. He says he would not blame you if you never returned to Granelle or Hol-Opah.”

“On the contrary. Besides being the last thing I’d want personally, it would also be the worst thing for you and your family. I have to go back, and be seen going back. It’s the only thing that will clear the dishonor from your family name.”

Salomen rose from her chair, walked to the bed and crouched so that she could put her face right next to Tal’s. She stared into Tal’s eyes for several pipticks before closing the last distance and kissing her with a thoroughness that left Tal slightly short on breath.

“That’s for caring so much about my family,” she said. “And this is for caring so much about me.” Another deep, searching kiss made it difficult for Tal to get her eyes open again. When she did, Salomen was still looking straight into them. “And this,” she said, “is because I love you.” The kiss started out more gently, gradually increasing in passion until Salomen left Tal’s lips and began covering every part of her face that she could reach. When she finally pulled away, Tal had to clear her throat before she could speak.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Salomen laughed. “More like a sort of mutual annihilation.” She trailed a fingertip over Tal’s lips, her own arousal soaring as Tal sucked her finger in and ran her tongue over and around it, holding it captive with her lips. Slowly reclaiming her finger, Salomen whispered, “I have never felt such a windstorm of emotions. From one tick to the next I’m angry, worried sick, frightened…and then I think about you, or feel you—or touch you—and I wonder how it can be possible to be so happy at the same time. I don’t understand it.”

“Some things aren’t meant to be understood,” Tal said. “They’re just meant to be experienced. And I’m grateful to Fahla for giving us this in the middle of all the rest.” She carefully reached out and caressed Salomen’s face, still not quite used to the fact that she could touch her without fear. “Mostly I’m just grateful for you.”

Salomen took Tal’s hand in her own, lacing their fingers together. “I’ll be a lot more grateful when you’re out of that bed.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Then hold this thought,” said Salomen. “In precisely one day, you and I are going to have all sorts of things to thank Fahla for. I plan to see just how loud your gratitude can get.”

Tal whimpered. “You are trying to kill me.”

“Not at all.” Salomen’s grin was slightly wicked. “Think of it as an incentive to finish up your healing. I’ve got plans for that body that involve a different sort of bed.”

“And no Healer Tornell to walk in on us.”

Salomen dropped her hand. “Well, that was a bucket of rainwater.”

Now it was Tal’s turn to grin. “Good. Think of it as an incentive.”

“For what?”

“For not frustrating the dokshin out of me when I can’t do anything about it!”

Salomen leaned in to kiss her again. “All right. I promise not to frustrate the dokshin out of you…until you can do something about it.”

Tal gave a resigned sigh. One more day.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 36

 

 

“Are you ready?”

“What kind of a question is that?” Tal couldn’t believe Healer Tornell was serious. She’d been ready to get out of this bed from the moment she woke up in it.

“What I meant was, are you prepared to take your own weight?” said Tornell. “Your legs have not been accustomed to supporting your body. You’ll need to hold onto the arm supports until you’re stable.”

“Oh.” Tal took a firm hold of her supports. “Then yes, I’m ready.” She looked through the head ring at Salomen and Micah, who were watching intently. “Going for a ride,” she said, as Tornell activated the bed. Gradually it increased its angle of inclination, and after an eternity of anticipation Tal felt her feet brushing the ground. She waited impatiently as the bed continued to rise, finally coming to a stop in the fully vertical position. She was standing on her own two feet at last! Well, mostly she was standing—her legs felt like rubber and she was grateful for Tornell’s warning; the arm supports were a lifesaver. She stayed there for several pipticks, letting her legs get used to her weight before letting go with one arm. She swayed and Salomen immediately moved to her side, but Tal held up a hand. “Not yet,” she said. She waited, focusing on her breathing and mentally picturing strength being sent to her legs with every exhale. When she felt ready, she let go with the other arm and stood motionless. After a few pipticks she took a step, then another, walking slowly across the room to one of the chairs Micah and Salomen had spent so much time in. She sat down, carefully rested her back against the chair, and let out a sigh of pure happiness.

“I cannot even tell you how good this feels,” she said.

“By the look on your face, I’d say pretty good indeed,” said Micah. He’d already been smiling nonstop, having had his gel gloves removed half a hantick ago.

Salomen sat down beside Tal. “Are you sitting because of the novelty, or because your legs are tired?”

“The novelty,” said Tal. “I won’t be running my usual ten lengths tomorrow, but my legs feel fine.”

“Excellent,” said Tornell briskly. She made a note on her reader card and slipped it into the pocket of her jacket. “I’ve just signed you out of the health center. As of now you are a visitor, not a patient. And remember—”

“I know,” said Tal. “Gentle movement for the first two days.” Tornell had repeated that instruction at least three times. Apparently she hated to see repeat business.

She stood up and walked with slightly more speed over to the healer. “Thank you,” she said as she raised her hand for a farewell palm touch. “I’ve appreciated your gentle hands. And if you think I’m an irritating patient, pray you never get Colonel Micah in here for anything worse than hand burns.”

“Don’t believe her,” said Micah as Tornell touched her palm to Tal’s.

“Oh, I do,” said Tornell. She looked up at Micah’s imposing bulk. “In my experience, the bigger they are, the louder they whine.”

Tal grinned, happy to see Tornell’s acerbic comments aimed at someone else for a change. Micah simply snorted. Reaching into the pack he’d brought with him, he withdrew a neatly folded stack of clothes. “Don’t take too long in the shower,” he said. “Otherwise we’ll have to go and check on you.”

Tal took the clothes as Salomen said, “What do you mean, ‘we’? If anyone checks on her, it won’t be you, warrior.”

“I can see my ex-patient is in good hands,” said Tornell. “Please try to keep her out of trouble. Good day and good health to you all.” With a wave she was gone.

“This is going to feel wonderful,” said Tal happily as she turned toward the bathroom door.

“Do you need any assistance?” asked Salomen in a too-polite voice. “Perhaps you shouldn’t shower alone.”

“Perhaps not,” said Tal, “but any assistance from you is not likely to be all that helpful. Gentle movement, remember?”

“I can be very gentle.”

“Excuse me,” said Micah. “There’s someone else in the room.”

Tal laughed and walked into the bathroom. Dropping her uniform on the shelf in the drying area, she stepped onto the tiled shower flooring and activated the unit. Temperature-controlled water poured over the protruding tile shelf in the corner, creating a wide waterfall that was continually filtered and fed back into the system. She moved under the waterfall and gloried in the feel of it on her skin—particularly the new skin of her back, which was exquisitely sensitive. For a moment she imagined Salomen touching that skin in a few hanticks, when they were alone at the State House, and reluctantly quashed the thought. If she started down that line of thinking now, she’d never get off it again.

Picking up the soap sponge, she rubbed it briskly over her arms and chest. Bed baths had kept her disinfected during the last four days, but that wasn’t the same thing as being clean. This was total paradise, and she let herself sink into the luxury of it. The briskness of her motions slowed as her mind wandered again, until she found herself passing the sponge across her breasts in a sensual manner that was rather ineffective if one’s purpose was to scrub oneself clean.

The bathroom door opened, but Tal didn’t bother turning her head. She continued soaping herself, now moving onto her legs and trying hard not to smile too broadly.

“Andira,” said Salomen, “Stop that.”

“Stop what? I’m taking a shower.”

“Just so you know, I’m not looking. And I don’t want to feel that, either. How can I concentrate on anything else if you’re putting these thoughts in my mind?”

“What else is there to concentrate on right now?” Tal put the sponge back and picked up the brush. Now her motions were decidedly sensual as she slowly pulled the brush through her hair, enjoying the sensation of its smooth glide as it distributed a silky hair cleanser. She heard the door shut firmly and laughed out loud. It was only fair that they should both be suffering.

She replaced the brush and stood under the waterfall, simply enjoying the pleasure of a real shower, until there was really no excuse to remain any longer. Reluctantly she deactivated the unit and walked to the drying area, where a heated pad absorbed the moisture from her feet and kept her from cooling too quickly. The health center’s drying cloths were luxuriously soft; a necessity if they were to be used on brand new skin. She dried off slowly, taking the time to fully appreciate her freedom of movement and the feel of the cloth on her back. Then she pulled on her uniform, sat down to put on her socks and boots, and finally strolled out of the bathroom with her jacket in hand.

“That was one of the best showers I’ve ever taken,” she said.

Micah chuckled. “Better than after you had to pull me out of that mud bog?”

“Better even than that.”

Salomen simply looked at her, the joy in her emotions warming Tal’s senses. “You look…the way you’re supposed to,” she said.

Tal reached out for Salomen’s hand and tugged her in for a gentle kiss. “I feel the way I’m supposed to,” she told her. “Better, actually. The skin on my back isn’t the only thing I’ve acquired in here.”

Salomen kissed her again. “Come on, tyrina. Let’s go tell my family about that other thing you’ve acquired.”

As they filed out of the room Micah said plaintively, “You’re not always going to be kissing now, are you?”

“It’s possible,” said Tal cheerfully.

“I’d better warn Salomen’s Guards,” he grumbled.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 37

 

 

They flew to Hol-Opah in a military transport, though Tal would have preferred her private one. Fortunately, they did not have to bring an entire contingent of Guards with them. Half of the original Guards were still at Hol-Opah; Tal had kept them there to protect the Opahs from curiosity seekers or possible reprisals, and to enforce her order barring the media from Opah land. Salomen had told her about the intrusive actions of a few journalists, which was enough for Tal to pull rank on the whole lot. They hadn’t liked it, but she rarely exercised her authority in this way and did not regret it when it became necessary.

After Healer Tornell’s revelation that she’d already assumed their bonded status, Tal had called Communication Counselor Miltorin to her room for a consultation. He confirmed that it would be difficult at best to hide her relationship with Salomen—particularly after the assassination attempt had brought all the Opahs into global focus—but that they could likely divert attention away from the particular level of their bond by simply acknowledging the existence of any relationship at all. Few would imagine that the Lancer would find a bondmate in the producer caste; they would expect Salomen to be a lover. If Tal acknowledged Salomen as such, people would see precisely what they expected to see. At worst, they might be discovered to be bondmates before they were ready, but the odds of anyone guessing their status as tyrees were extremely low.

Tal had been concerned about propelling Salomen into the view of the world’s vidcams, but Salomen said it would happen sooner or later, and she’d rather it happened on her terms. Miltorin suggested that they might use the media to solve two problems at once: publicize Tal’s good relations with the Opahs, and preempt some of the speculation on Salomen. After their discussion, Salomen had made a call to her father and brother, explaining what she could and procuring their permission for a more public reunion than they’d previously expected.

The six most-watched journalists on Alsea had then received messages from the Lancer’s Office, inviting them to send vidcams to the meeting between Lancer Tal and the Opah family. Afterwards, they were told, the vidcams would be returned to them and they could air the footage as they wished. Of course the journalists had wanted to accompany their equipment, but Tal was not about to subject the Opahs to questions and interviews.

She looked at the six vidcams lying dormant in a holding rack on the transport. Once they landed and those vidcams were activated, life for the Opahs would never be the same. Salomen would be the most affected by far, and Tal wished once more that she could protect her from the inevitable. But Salomen had made her feelings clear, to Tal’s considerable pride. Her tyree did not allow life to happen to her—she went out and faced it head on.

It felt strange to be flying to Hol-Opah with Salomen beside her. Every time Tal looked at her, she couldn’t help but think how dramatically everything had changed for both of them in a single moment. Their Sharing was not what she would have chosen, but perhaps it had been for the best. Who knew how long they would have danced around it otherwise? They’d been torturing themselves with their suppressed desires, the inability to touch each other, and those damnable empathic flashes. That was all behind them now—well, except for the suppressed desires—and there was a great deal ahead of them.

Salomen reached over and tucked her hand into Tal’s as they passed over the border of Hol-Opah. “I’ve dreamed of bringing you back home every hantick since it happened,” she said quietly. “Thank you for making this our first stop. I know you have a few hundred other things pressing on you.”

Tal squeezed her hand. “Nothing is as pressing as you and your family. I know where my priorities lie.” She glanced at Micah, who was watching out his window. “You can thank the good colonel for that,” she added. “He’s the one who taught me that a warrior with a whole heart was a better servant to Alsea than a warrior with only half a heart.”

“Colonel Micah is a very wise man.”

“Yes, he is. I try not to tell him that too often.”

“Perhaps you should tell him again soon.”

Tal looked at Micah again, noting the tension in his face that he’d been trying so hard to hide with humor. “I know. That’s another top priority.”

As planned, Shikal, Nikin and Jaros were waiting at the landing area behind the house, wearing rain capes to ward off the light drizzle. Tal could sense their apprehension from inside the transport; even Jaros was worried. As soon as the Guards were in place and the vidcams had been deployed, she walked out with Salomen, stood in the doorway of the transport to give the world a good look at the two of them holding hands, and then went straight to the three waiting Opahs. Dropping Salomen’s hand, she raised both of hers to Shikal. Though visibly startled at a gesture normally reserved for good friends or family, he reached out without hesitation, a flood of relief and gratitude pouring off him as soon as they made contact. Through their touch he could sense the truth, and knew that not only did she hold no ill feelings toward his family, but that something fundamental had shifted between her and his daughter. He looked at Salomen with a broad smile, then back to Tal.

“Well met, Shikal,” she said.

“Well met, Lancer Tal.” In a slightly louder voice, he said, “In the name of our family and our honored ancestors, I thank you for your generosity in returning so soon after your healing. None of us can sufficiently express our sorrow, our shock, or our shame for what happened here.” The cadence of his speech was a little stiff; clearly he’d rehearsed this.

“None of you here were responsible,” she said firmly, ignoring the vidcams hovering around them. “Your sorrow and shock I understand, but the shame does not belong to you. My greatest regret is that your family has been so shattered by this event. I wish to say that I never once held you, your sons Nikin and Jaros, or your daughter Salomen to blame for the attempt on my life.” She wished she could include Herot’s name in that list, but it was impossible. All the world knew that the Alsean Investigative Force was looking for him; the agency had already received many tips on his whereabouts in the last two days. With any luck they would bring him in soon and the truth would exonerate him, but Tal could not count on that sort of luck. Her only concern now was damage control for the rest of the Opahs. Herot had made his own mess; his family should not have to pay the price.

“While living here during this past moon,” she continued, “you have treated me with the utmost honor, respect and friendship. Your kindness was such that over time I ceased to feel like a guest and began to feel as if I were part of the family. I hope you will not allow recent events to change this, Shikal. I value your friendship no less today than I did four days ago.”

Shikal closed his fingers over her hands. “I, on the other hand, value your friendship even more after the fear of having lost you. If we have made you feel a part of our family, then you sensed our true feelings. You are always welcome here on Hol-Opah.”

“Thank you.” She gave him a conspiratorial smile. “I’m glad you said that, since I plan to be here now and again. Hol-Opah’s horten soup is not to be missed.”

His answering smile was completely natural, and Tal was glad to see that for a moment he’d forgotten the vidcams. She nodded at him and stepped over to Nikin. Holding up both hands, she said, “Nikin, it’s good to see you again.”

He clutched her hands, his emotion naked to her senses. “It’s so good to see you,” he said. “We were so worried. But you look fabulous.” He was instantly embarrassed by his own words, and looked at her in silent pleading to save him. Vidcams were such a part of Tal’s life that she sometimes forgot that other people froze solid when they knew they were being recorded. Nikin had clearly suffered just such a brain freeze.

“Thank you,” she said. “My injuries were minor; I suspect the damage to your house was much more extensive than the damage to me.” She felt Salomen’s gratitude and admiration; her tyree was learning fast. By making a reference to the property damage that the Opahs had sustained, Tal was reinforcing the fact that they were additional victims of the assassination attempt and deserving of sympathy, not blame.

“It was a mess,” he admitted. “And besides the damage to the room itself, we lost our mother’s portrait and all of her books.”

Tal was shocked; Salomen hadn’t told her that. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

He nodded. “The books can be replaced, at least those whose titles we remember. But the portrait is gone forever.” His grief was laced with anger, but he straightened his spine and met her eyes with an even gaze. “Nevertheless we are grateful,” he said. “The loss could have been so much worse. Those are just things, and valuable as they are, they do not compare to an Alsean life.”

“No, they do not,” she said. “But their loss hurts just the same, and I grieve that loss with you.” She squeezed his hands before moving on to Jaros. Crouching down, she said quietly, “Hello, Jaros.”

With no warning he threw himself into her arms, nearly sending her over backwards. “It’s all right,” she said into his ear, holding him tightly. “I’m all right.”

“I was so scared!” His voice shuddered with the emotions he was trying to suppress. “I thought the house was falling down, it was so loud, and then everyone was shouting and nobody would let me see you and then you were gone and you didn’t come back!”

“Shhh.” She stroked his head with one hand while holding him tight with the other, and hoped that his desperate hold on her was not pulling the new skin too much. “I know it was frightening, Jaros, and I’m sorry I couldn’t see you until now. But I’m back, and good as new. See?” She pulled back, smiling at him. He promptly buried his face in her neck again.

“Please don’t leave again. Please? I don’t want you to go.”

“Oh, Jaros.” She looked up at the others, seeing her own emotions reflected in their faces. Of all the people who had been affected by this, Jaros had probably suffered the most simply because he didn’t understand.

“I’m going to be coming here for a long, long time,” she told him in a voice too low for the vidcams to pick up. “Don’t worry about me leaving, all right? You heard your father. I have a standing invitation, and I plan to make good use of it.”

“Promise?” His voice was muffled.

“I promise.”

He loosened his grip but did not let go, and Tal did the only thing she could bear to do, even though she knew it would light up vidscreens all over Alsea: she gathered him in her arms and stood up. Looking over his shoulder at Shikal, she said, “I believe Jaros could use a drink of water, and I’ve been thinking about one of your wonderful bottles of spirits for several days. Shall we go inside?”

“That sounds wonderful,” he agreed with relief. Once they went inside, the vidcams would be deactivated and they could all behave normally again. All of them except Jaros, thought Tal, who had the complete naturalness unique to children. He would be himself whether there were vidcams nearby or not.

“Excellent,” she said. “I hope there’s some horten soup left.”

Shikal laughed as he led the way up the stairs. “You’re in luck, Lancer Tal. We saved you some.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 38

 

 

The vidcams were sent back to Blacksun while Tal, Micah and the Opahs passed a pleasant half hantick in the parlor, catching up on news and avoiding any mention of the most pressing issue. When the conversation faltered and Shikal and Nikin began to look uncomfortable, Tal took matters into her own hands.

“May I see my old room?” she asked.

“Do you want to?” said Nikin in surprise.

“Yes, I do. I was…a little less than myself that night. I’d like to see what really happened.”

“We didn’t think you would want anything to do with it, but…of course you may,” said Shikal. He rose from his chair and led a general exodus out of the parlor and up the stairs. Tal thought she’d prepared herself, but seeing the actual damage was a shock. Nothing of her cheerful, comfortable room remained. The floor was clear of debris and all of the damaged furniture had been hauled out, leaving a bare shell. The plasma blast had thrown molten glass onto every surface, scarring the walls and floors with burn marks, and though the area around the window itself had escaped burning, it had suffered extensive percussive damage. The window seat was destroyed, as were the bookshelves to either side. Had Salomen been there when the blast hit, there would have been nothing left of her larger than a pastry.

Tal held Salomen’s hand tightly as she gazed around the room. “I don’t think I realized how bad it was,” she said softly.

“It was bad,” said Salomen, pointing to the floor. Tal followed the direction of her finger and felt sick. The floor was marked with a scattering of burns, except for one area. One body-shaped area, where she and Salomen had burned instead.

“At least I managed to save part of the floor,” she said.

“You saved our family,” said Shikal.

“You saved Salomen,” said Jaros, who was far more literal. “Look!” He pointed at the destroyed window seat, now covered by a construction-grade transparent cloth to keep out the rains. “She would have died if she’d still been sitting there. But you pulled her off. How did you know?”

Tal looked at Salomen and received a slight nod.

“I knew because I was actively scanning the emotional landscape at the time,” she said. “I was checking the people both inside and outside the house, and I felt Bilsner at the extreme edge of my range. I didn’t know who he was, but I knew he didn’t belong here—and that he was planning to do something that scared him and excited him at the same time. I’ve felt that combination of emotions before. It means danger, and since I sat in that seat every evening, it was instantly clear to me where the danger was. The rest was just instinct.”

Jaros took her explanation at face value, but she could feel Shikal and Nikin puzzling over it. She waited.

“Do you normally scan the emotional landscape?” asked Nikin.

“Not on a regular basis, no,” said Tal. “That’s what my Guards do.”

“What an amazing coincidence that you happened to be doing it at that moment,” said Shikal.

“It wasn’t a coincidence, Father.” Salomen squeezed Tal’s hand. “We’d been doing it every night for six nights by then.”

Shikal frowned. “What do you mean?”

Salomen’s grip on Tal’s hand tightened; she was nervous but resolute. “We weren’t conducting delegate business all those evenings,” she said. “And we weren’t doing what you were all thinking, either. Lancer Tal has been training me since the day after she arrived. I’m a high empath.”

Both Shikal and Nikin gaped at her, while Jaros grinned. “Speedy!” he said. “You’re so lucky!”

“How in Fahla’s good name can you be a high empath?” demanded Shikal. “When did this happen?”

“It didn’t just ‘happen.’ I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember.”

“Salomen Arrin Opah! Are you standing there and telling me that you’ve been a high empath all your life and never told your family?” Shikal’s shock was turning to a sense of pained disbelief.

“Yes, I am.” Her voice was calm, but Tal could feel her distress. She projected all of her support, and received a quick glance of gratitude in response. “At first I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know anyone else like me,” Salomen continued. “I didn’t want to be different. And then I didn’t say anything because if a tester had marked me, they would have taken me away. So I fooled them and made sure that no one ever knew.”

Nikin was wide-eyed. “You fooled the testers?”

Salomen nodded. “I’ve been carrying this secret forever and believe me, I never, ever wanted to. But if anyone had found out, I’d have been sent away to train and none of you would have seen me for five cycles, except for training breaks. And that would have been the positive outcome. The other possibility was too frightening to think about.”

“She had a great deal of strength but no control,” said Tal. “On my first night here she probed me without being able to stop herself.” She nodded at Shikal and Nikin’s dismay. “As you can imagine, once I knew of her talents I could not allow things to go on as they had been. The law exists for a reason. So I made her a deal: if she would allow me to instruct her in basic techniques, I would waive the full training requirement. That’s what we were doing every night in my room—training Salomen to control and focus her senses. She’s extremely gifted. And if you could see how hard she’s worked, and how astonishing her growth has been, you would be very proud of her. I certainly am.”

Shikal turned away, shaking his head. “This is too much to take in. We should be discussing this in the parlor over a new bottle of spirits.”

“I’m with you.” Nikin followed him down the hall, while Salomen turned and rested her forehead on Tal’s shoulder.

“It will be fine,” Tal whispered, gently stroking her hair. “You knew they’d be shocked. They’ll adapt.”

“I know.” Salomen lifted her head again. “That doesn’t make it any easier.”

Micah touched her shoulder. “Nothing worthwhile is easy. But when your family has moved through this, you’ll be living openly at last. Keep your eye on that.”

“That’s what I’m telling myself,” she said, and set off after her father and brother. Tal, Micah and Jaros trailed behind, with Jaros frowning in confusion.

“I don’t understand why Father is so upset,” he said to Tal. “Don’t you think it’s speedy that Salomen is a high empath?”

“I think it’s very speedy,” she assured him. “Your father just needs a little time to get used to the idea.”

He shrugged. “What idea? It’s not like she suddenly turned into someone else. This is Salomen.”

Tal met Micah’s eyes and knew he was thinking the same thing. Sometimes a child’s view of the truth was by far the most clear.

They arrived in the parlor in time to see Shikal opening a second bottle of spirits. The room was silent as he poured four glasses, filling a fifth with grainstem juice for Jaros. He stood waiting while each person took their glass and found a seat.

“Now then,” he said, his face set in a stern expression. “Start from the beginning, and don’t leave anything out.”

Salomen sipped her drink, set it on the table beside her chair, and began speaking. When she reached the point of describing the loneliness she’d felt while carrying her secret, Tal quietly took her hand. She held it for the next quarter hantick, until Salomen’s tale had caught her family up to the present.

“When Andira caught me probing her, I thought my world had come to an end,” she said. “I didn’t even know I was doing it. I’d probably done that hundreds, thousands of times before, but never knew it and never got caught, because there’s no one in Granelle who has the skills to detect it. I had no idea how strong I was. She told me that the Whitemoon Sensoral Institute would take me—”

“Whitemoon!” exclaimed Nikin. “That’s the best institute on Alsea!” He looked at Tal for confirmation.

“They would have taken her in a heartbeat,” she said. “Salomen has an extraordinary gift.”

“It didn’t feel like a gift to me,” said Salomen. “It was just something that I had to hide. It made me different; someone who didn’t belong in the producer caste. And then Andira came, and on the first night of our training a whole new world opened up for me. Not only was I not having to hide my powers, but someone was actually showing me how to control them. It was…magical. This whole last moon has been magical.” A smile wreathed her face. “For the first time in my life I could truly be myself. I can’t even tell you how amazing that felt; to let go of a secret I’d been carrying all my life. And that’s why I’m telling you now. I can’t live that way anymore. I need to be who I am. I need you to know who I am. And I’m so sorry that I couldn’t tell you before.”

No one spoke, and Salomen shrank against Tal, her courage failing her at last. Tal wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close. “You did well,” she whispered.

Salomen didn’t respond; her gaze was focused on her father, who was staring into his glass and looking very stern indeed. Finally he raised his head and met his daughter’s eyes.

“I understand your original decision with the testers,” he said. “You handled it with the courage and strength that has marked you all your life. And I understand your fear of being different, and why you would have kept your secret as a pre-Rite child, though I grieve that neither I nor your mother were given the opportunity to help you. What I do not understand is why you continued to keep this secret after your Rite of Ascension. Did you never think you could trust us with this?”

His pain was piercing Salomen, whose own anguish was almost physically palpable. “It was not about trust,” she said in a shaky voice. “I have always trusted you and I’ve always loved you; everything I’ve done I did to keep my family whole. I know this is hard for you, but please look at it from my point of view. How was I to go to you or Mother and tell you I’d been keeping a secret for twenty cycles? How do you start a conversation like that? Would you have been any less hurt than you are now? At twenty-five cycles it was even harder, and at thirty it was harder yet. A secret grows more entrenched the longer it’s kept; that’s a lesson I’ve learned far too well. I just didn’t know how to explain it, and I didn’t know how to make you understand how difficult it was for me.”

“It just…” He stopped, blinked hard, and tried again. “It pains me to think that I could have helped you, but you never allowed it. And it hurts even more to think that I might have gone to my Return without ever knowing, if this disaster hadn’t forced your hand.”

Salomen was too crushed by the sight of him blinking back tears to answer. She held her hand over her mouth, fighting her own tears, and Tal had had enough.

“Shikal, Salomen’s hand was not forced by this. She’s been gradually approaching this point over the last moon, as she learned to control her gift. For the first time in her life she felt normal, and that was what enabled her to move past her secret and prepare to tell you. She’s been looking forward to living openly at last.”

“But I could have told her she was normal,” said Shikal. “I could have told her that when she was ten.”

“With the utmost respect, I have to disagree,” said Tal gently. “You’re not a high empath, and you truly have no idea what she experiences. Yes, you could have told her that as a child, but unless you were prepared to send her to training where she could be with other strong empaths, your words would have been just words and she would have known it. I’m not saying you could not have helped, because it would certainly have been easier for her if she had shared her burden with you. But the absolute truth is that while you could, and did, give her all of your love, you could not have given her understanding. Not in this.”

“Lancer Tal,” he said in a stronger tone, “I respect and admire you, but I cannot accept your telling me that I could not understand my child. Unless you have a child of your own, you have no idea how insulting that is.”

“I do not meant to be insulting, and I apologize if it seemed so. But I speak from the viewpoint of one who shares Salomen’s gift. It’s simply impossible to communicate what this power is like, and impossible to understand if you’ve never felt it.” She paused, casting about for another way to explain. “You know when your children are happy or upset, correct? You can sense the emotions of your kin?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then why did you never know that Salomen was desperately lonely?”

He stared at his daughter, his jaw working. “I…I should have.”

“No,” said Tal. “You could not, because she was instinctively fronting it. Your senses allow you to feel anything your children are not blocking, but Salomen’s senses allow her to feel anything, period. Anything. Only a strong and fully trained empath could maintain a front against her. You could not be expected to know what she wished to hide, and she could not communicate what it is that she feels. In a way, you were speaking two different languages.”

“We could show him,” said Salomen suddenly. Tal turned toward her in surprise.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes. You’re right, words will not suffice. I cannot bear the emotions in this room, and I don’t think we can resolve them through talking even if we talked the rest of the day.”

Shikal looked at them curiously. “What are you speaking of?”

“A group Sharing,” said Tal.

“But that’s only done at bonding ceremonies,” said Nikin. “You would need a bond minister.”

“This is part of what you don’t understand,” said Tal. “We do not require a bond minister. Two of the most powerful empaths on the planet are here in the room with you.”

She waited while they absorbed that concept.

“Salomen is that strong?” asked Shikal at last.

Tal smiled at her tyree. “I’m not even sure how strong she is. She’s never been assessed. What I know for certain is that she’s as strong as I am, and I’ve never met an empath whose gift exceeded my own.”

“Great Goddess,” mumbled Nikin.

“I want to,” said Jaros, daring to speak for the first time. “I’ve never been to a bonding ceremony. And I think you’re being rather hard on Salomen. Why are you making her feel bad? I’m glad she’s telling us.”

Salomen abruptly rose from her chair, pulled Jaros out of his and squeezed him in a warmron. “Thank you, Jaros,” she said.

“I just don’t see what everyone is so upset about,” he said, and she laughed.

“Which is precisely why I’m thanking you,” she said. She loosened her embrace and gently pushed him in front of her to the center of the room, where she stood with her hands on his shoulders. “All right,” she said. “I have one person who wishes to join Andira and me in a group Sharing. Are there any others?”

Tal stood up and silently took her place next to Salomen. She met Shikal’s eyes and waited.

“I will use any tool at my disposal to help my child,” he said. Setting his glass down with a click, he joined them.

“Well, I’m not missing out on this,” said Nikin.

Tal looked over to Micah, the last holdout.

“I’m not a part of this family,” he said uncomfortably. “Perhaps it is not appropriate for me to join this Sharing.”

“You’re a part of my family,” said Tal. “Get over here, Micah.”

With a look of resignation he pushed out of his chair and walked over. “Where do you want me?”

Tal faced Salomen, leaving a small space between them. “Jaros, will you come behind me? And Micah, you can go behind Jaros.”

“I would like Father behind me,” said Salomen.

“I guess I know where I’m going,” said Nikin, as he waited for his father to get into position.

Tal looked over her shoulder at Jaros. “All you have to do is put your hand on my back, and Colonel Micah will put his hand on your back. That will complete the connection.”

He nodded, his eyes wide in anticipation, and as Tal faced Salomen she felt a small and very warm touch on her back. “We’re ready on this side,” she said.

“Are you in place, Nikin?” asked Salomen.

“Yes.”

She smiled at Tal. “We’re ready too.”

With a slow, deliberate movement, Tal reached out to cup Salomen’s cheek. She rested her other hand on the back of Salomen’s neck, waiting while Salomen mirrored her position. With one last look into each other’s eyes, they touched their foreheads together.

The first thing Tal thought was how nice it was to not worry about an empathic flash. Then her senses swelled as they joined with Salomen’s, the effect one of a molten rush that heated but did not burn. Her hands grew warm where they touched Salomen’s body, and she felt that heat travel through to Jaros behind her and Micah behind him. Focusing on Salomen, she lifted their shared emotions and directed them toward the others in the link, waiting as they absorbed the gift. Salomen’s pain dissipated into the link, the Sharing relieving her of sole ownership, while she reveled in the unimpeded access to her family.

In a group Sharing, emotions were sent outward from the couple at the center, retaining the privacy of all other participants. Neither Tal nor Salomen were limited by a bond minister, however, and they chose to open nearly all of the pathways. Tal was pleased to sense Shikal’s hurt confusion fading into comprehension. Jaros was a bright point in the link, radiating awe and appreciation for this new experience. Nikin’s quiet love for his sister was a steady, strong current, and Micah’s emotions carried a warmth that might have surprised those who did not see beyond his gruff exterior. Tal wrapped a temporary front around his feelings of failure, protecting them from the Sharing, though her position at the center of the link meant she was not able to hide her own sorrow at sensing them.

For some time Tal held their link together, wanting to be sure that Salomen’s family received the full impact. A normal group Sharing would have ended there, but this was not about simply sharing each other’s emotions. Gathering Salomen’s strength into her own, Tal took them all beyond the walls of the house, settling onto the first individual they found.

“That’s Varsi,” she said, smiling. “Judging by what we’re feeling, I’d guess she lost at tiles last night.” She moved them on, naming each of the Guards they came across near the house, and then found another further out. “And that’s Gehrain. Now we know who Varsi lost to. You’d think she’d have learned by now.”

One by one, she showed them each of the Guards on their property, including the six who were now at the outer edges of Hol-Opah, creating an overlapping scanning network to be certain that no one came through their empathic net. “Feel the effort they’re making?” she asked. “Active scanning is very draining. Guards train long and hard to arrive at a point where they can actively scan for up to two hanticks before needing a break. Normally they would scan once every few ticks rather than continuously, but they’re on the highest alert level now.”

She lifted away from the outer Guards and brought them all back in, taking the time to make sure everyone was settled before breaking her link to the others. She and Salomen remained in their position, resting and supporting each other and simply reveling in their own, private Sharing for a few precious pipticks.

We will pick this up later, Tal thought, and the answering assurance from Salomen was so strong that a small chuckle escaped. It took a considerable act of will to break away and stand up straight, but Tal reminded herself that they were not alone. The others had shifted around them, and were watching with wide eyes.

“I have never felt the like,” said Shikal, shaking his head. “Not even during a bonding ceremony.”

Nikin and Micah echoed his sentiments, while Jaros was still completely awed.

“That would never happen in a bonding ceremony,” said Tal. “For one thing, a bond minister is obligated to preserve the privacy of all guests, but I allowed each of you feel the others. Also, most bond ministers would not have the power to do the long-distance scanning that we just showed you. And even if they did have the power, they wouldn’t use it during a bonding ceremony.”

“And you can do this?” Shikal asked Salomen. “Without Sharing?”

Salomen nodded. “I’m not skilled at it yet; I cannot pick out individuals the way Andira can. But I can sense them, yes.”

“Fahla.” Shikal made his way to his chair and sat heavily. “It’s as if I’ve had a winden living right here in my house and never known it. You can reach heights I never imagined.” He looked up at Tal. “You were right. This is so far beyond my experience that I’m still not sure I can understand it.”

Salomen went to him and knelt by his chair. “Father, you don’t have to understand. I just needed you to know—and to accept it.”

He reached out to her face, trailing his fingertips along her cheek. “I would love you if you were sonsales. Why would I love you any less for flying so high?”

She took his hand in hers and kissed his cheek. “I never worried about you loving me less. What I worried about was hurting you.”

“And what hurt me most was knowing that I wasn’t able to save you from being hurt,” he said. “Aren’t we a pair?”

Salomen laughed. “We are. And as far as understanding—ask me anything, and I’ll tell you as best I can. If I can’t explain it, I’ll try to show you. I may need Andira to help me with that, at least at first. But now that you all know, I want you to know as much as possible. I’m through with secrets.”

“I don’t think you are,” said Nikin, attracting every eye in the room. He raised his eyebrows at his sister. “There’s something you aren’t telling us. Or did you just trust the Sharing to make it clear?”

She rose, still holding her father’s hand, and smiled at him. “Well…I did think it would be nice not to have to confess two things in one day.”

Jaros looked from Salomen to Nikin and back again. “What?” he asked.

“Jaros,” said Salomen, “our family has grown by one.”

“Huh?”

Tal walked over and took Salomen’s free hand.

“They’re already bonded,” said Nikin. “When did you do it? And why keep it so quiet? Because she’s the Lancer?”

“Is that what it was?” asked Shikal. “I felt that too, but it’s not like any bond I ever felt at a ceremony. The love is extremely clear, but I just thought that was because they’re both high empaths.” He looked up at Salomen, the disbelief and disappointment graying out his emotions. “You had a bonding ceremony without your family? Now I am going to be upset. How could you?”

“We haven’t had a ceremony,” said Salomen. “I would never do that without including my family. But it’s true that we’re bonded.”

“Will someone tell me what’s happening?” said Jaros impatiently.

“The reason you didn’t recognize it is that it’s not like any bond you’ve felt,” Salomen continued. “We’re tyrees.”

“Holy shek!” exclaimed Nikin. “Tyrees?” He began to laugh. “Is there anything else you need to tell us? Because we’re all so shocked now that a little more won’t matter.”

Shikal gazed from Salomen to Tal. “You and Lancer Tal? Tyrees?” He nodded slowly. “That would explain what I felt. But…” A smile broke over his face. “Tyrees? You are tyree?”

Salomen chuckled at his sudden loss of verbal skills. “I finally found my dream, Father.”

His eyes were damp for the second time that day. “I could not have wished more for you in my own dreams. But how did this happen?”

Salomen looked at Tal and shrugged. “I think you have to ask Fahla that question. We had no control over it.”

“None at all,” Tal agreed. “We’ve spent the last half moon trying to keep some sort of hold on it, because we were both frightened by how fast it was moving. Tyrees don’t require a bond minister or any kind of ceremony to become bonded. The first Sharing seals the bond, so we were doing our best to delay it. But the assassination attempt took it out of our hands.”

“Andira’s empathic senses were knocked out by the shock,” said Salomen. “But she’d seen enough before the attack to know that the assassin was out of her Guards’ range. She needed my empathic strength to find him, so—we Shared.”

“While the room was burning?” asked Nikin incredulously.

Tal and Salomen looked at each other. “I didn’t actually notice that part,” admitted Tal.

“Neither did I,” said Salomen. “I couldn’t see very much since I was under Andira, and besides, I was completely focused on her.”

“They were not in immediate danger,” said Micah. “Most of the damage had already been done by then.”

“But what a terrible way to have your first Sharing,” said Shikal. “I hope you’ve made up for it by now.”

“Well…” Salomen glanced at Tal. “No, we haven’t. Andira has been healing, and the circumstances weren’t right. What you just experienced was only our second Sharing.”

“What?” sputtered Shikal. “No, no, no! This is not right!” He shook a finger at Tal. “You take my daughter somewhere special tonight, and you Share with her the way Fahla meant it to be. She deserves that.”

“I promise,” said Tal, unable to keep the grin off her face. As if she had thought of anything else these last four days! But before she could do that, she needed to make up for her prior breach of tradition. Still holding Salomen’s hand, she knelt in front of Shikal’s chair. “Honored Raiz Arrin,” she said formally, “please know that if I had been able to do so, I would have asked for the gift of a place in your family before presuming to take it. It was not in my power then, but it is now.” She took a deep breath, centering herself, and spoke the words that every Alsean over ten cycles knew by heart.

“Under the eye of Fahla, who sees all, I say that I am deeply in love with your daughter. Her happiness is my ambition; her well-being is my purpose. All that is mine I place freely at her disposal, including my heart, my soul, and my life, which I would gladly lay down to protect hers. This I swear in Fahla’s name. I am Andira Shaldone Tal, and I ask this gift of you and Nashta and all your ancestors: Will you do me the honor of accepting me into your family?”

The room was utterly still as Salomen knelt beside her. “Father, I know I should have said something earlier, but to speak of anything would have meant revealing everything, and I just wasn’t ready. I’m ready now.” She squeezed Tal’s hand. “Under the eye of Fahla, who sees all, I say that I am deeply in love with Andira Shaldone Tal. Her happiness is my ambition; her well-being is my purpose. All that is mine I place freely at her disposal, including my heart, my soul, and my life, which I would gladly lay down to protect hers. This I swear in Fahla’s name. I am Salomen Arrin Opah, and I ask this of you: Will you speak for my mother and all of our ancestors, and accept Andira into our family?”

Her last words were choked as the tears spilled from her father’s eyes. Shikal’s lips trembled as he reached out to place a hand over each of their hearts. “I had already seen for myself the love between you,” he said, “but I did not speak of that which was not brought to me. Today you have not only declared this love, but you have given me the gift of allowing me to feel it.” He cleared his throat and spoke the formal words. “My daughters, I hear your petition. Under the eye of Fahla, who connects our past with our future, and in the name of my beloved Nashta and all of our ancestors, I say that Andira Shaldone Tal is now one of our family. May our descendants rejoice in this bond, which enriches our family beyond measure.”

Tal was surprised by the tears rising in her eyes, and made a surreptitious attempt to wipe them with her free hand. “Thank you, Shikal,” she said. “I will honor your name and that of your daughter.”

“You already have,” he said. “And I think you may be the first petitioner in memory to have fulfilled your vow before even swearing it. You already laid yourself down to protect her. I could wish for no better bondmate for Salomen, nor a better addition to our family. Welcome, Andira.”

“Yes, welcome!” said Nikin. He swooped down on them and held up both hands, laughing as Tal met his palms. “What a surprise! We knew you two had something between you, but we had no idea it was this serious. I didn’t sense that from Salomen.” He gave his sister a mock severe look. “Now I know why; she was fronting it.”

“I’m sorry, Nikin,” said Salomen. “It was so new and out of control that I could barely deal with it myself. I simply couldn’t face any questions from you or Father.”

“I understand. Don’t worry, it’s enough that I get to tease you now.” He gave Tal an impish grin. “I must say, never in my wildest dreams did I think Salomen’s ridiculous challenge would lead to a joining of our families. We were all afraid she might have brought ruin on our heads with her outspoken ways.”

“I might yet,” said Salomen. “Don’t relax too much.”

Jaros came over with Micah, his brow furrowed. “Does this mean Lancer Tal is my sister?”

“I’m your bondsister,” said Tal. “Not quite the same thing, but pretty close.”

He grinned. “Speedy! Wait until everyone at school hears about this!”

Salomen reached around Tal and pulled her brother over. “Jaros,” she said seriously, “you cannot tell your friends about our bond. Not yet. You can tell them that we are a joined couple, which we’ve made public as of today. But not that we’re bonded, and especially not that we’re tyrees.”

“Why not?”

“Because someone might try to hurt me through your sister,” said Tal. “Being my bondmate will instantly make her a target. Being my tyree only increases the potential danger.”

He blinked up at Salomen, then wrapped his arms around her. “I won’t tell, I promise.”

She gave him a warmron as Nikin asked, “How great a concern is that?”

“Great enough that I’m currently training Salomen’s Guards,” said Micah. “We had not planned to go public with this quite yet, but the assassination attempt pushed our schedule forward a bit. Right now I have a unit of Tal’s Guards ready to step in. Salomen’s own Guards will begin their duties in four days.”

“You get your own Guards!” Now Jaros was over the moon.

“Yes, I do,” she said. “I think you’re happier about it than I am.”

“Why wouldn’t you be happy? This is fantastic!” Clearly he was in as close a condition to bliss as any boy could be. He’d just acquired the Lancer as a bondsister and his true sister had Guards of her own; what more could anyone ask for?

“I suppose it is,” said Salomen, who could not help but laugh. “But do you know what’s even better?”

“What?”

“You’re going to participate in your first bonding ceremony, and it will be a State event. You’ll be the only boy in school who will get to go.”

“That’s right,” said Shikal. “We have a ceremony to plan, don’t we?”

“We do,” said Tal. “Unfortunately, we don’t get to plan it alone. Since this will be a State ceremony, I’ll have to bring in Counselor Aldirk.” She looked at Micah, sharing his mirth at the thought. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to fly out here and help.”

“Let’s go into the dining room and write down a few thoughts,” said Salomen. “Besides, you promised Andira horten soup, and you haven’t delivered yet.”

“That’s true,” said Tal. “That was the main reason I came back here.”

“If I believed that for a moment, I would retract my permission,” said Shikal. He rose from his chair and put a hand on Tal’s shoulder, guiding her into the dining room. Salomen caught up with them, slipping an arm around Tal’s waist.

“Is your back all right?” she asked quietly.

“It’s fine.” Tal pulled her aside as the others filed into the dining room. She watched Shikal and Nikin continue to the kitchen dome, while Jaros sat down at the table and began peppering Micah with questions. “Do you think Jaros ever runs out of questions?”

“No,” said Salomen, watching her brother with a fond smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

Tal took advantage of the moment to study the peaceful expression on her tyree’s face. “I love what I’m sensing,” she said. “All the time I’ve known you, there’s been something in the background of your emotions, weighing you down. And now it’s gone.”

“But something else has taken its place,” said Salomen.

“I know. An incredible lightness. It’s even making me feel giddy.”

“No, I think you’re feeling giddy about everything else. I’m talking about something you’ve always had, so you probably don’t recognize it as anything unusual.”

“And what are you feeling that I wouldn’t recognize as unusual?”

The beaming smile that Salomen gave her could have evaporated the rain from here to Blacksun.

“Freedom, Andira. I’m feeling free.”

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 39

 

 

Tal and Salomen left Hol-Opah amid many double-palm touches, a few urgent warmrons from Jaros, and a transport full of good wishes and joyous feelings. They returned to Blacksun to settle Salomen in Tal’s personal quarters, and Tal found herself swelling with unexpected pride as she escorted Salomen through the familiar halls of the State House. She’d always preferred her base quarters to these, but there was no denying that the State House was a lot more impressive.

“Amazing,” said Salomen as she swiveled her head this way and that, taking in the rich decor of the hallway, the small heirloom tables with vases of flowers, and the portraits of historical figures.

“What is?” Tal shifted Salomen’s bag on her shoulder. Salomen was not a light packer, and had brought two rather overstuffed bags. Though the Guards had offered to carry their bags to her quarters, neither she nor Salomen wanted anyone else around them right now.

“This building. The decor. The history and opulence, all of it. It’s so beautiful. But it’s not very…homey, is it?”

“Not at all,” said Tal, nodding a greeting to the two Guards who stood watch at the entrance to her private hallway. “Except for one part.” She stopped in front of her door, rested her palm on the lock, and gestured for Salomen to enter first. Following immediately after, she watched as Salomen dropped her bag on the floor and looked around with a wide smile.

“Now this room I would have recognized as yours had anyone asked,” she said.

Tal set her bag next to the first. “What gives it away?”

“The feel.” Salomen turned a slow circle, facing Tal at the end. “I can feel you in this room.”

“That’s one reason I love Hol-Opah,” said Tal. “I can feel you and your family, and all the people who lived there before. It has a warmth and history that I haven’t often felt in the places I’ve lived.”

Salomen half-closed her eyes. “There’s plenty of history here, too, but it’s certainly not all warm. And your presence overpowers all of it. Maybe that’s because your energy is what I’m attuned to, but this room feels like home to me.”

Tal stepped into her, wrapping her arms around her for the first time in far, far too long. “I’m so glad,” she murmured, tucking her face against Salomen’s throat.

“Oh…” Salomen squeezed her tightly, then brought a hand up behind her head. “Fahla, I’ve missed this.”

“Me too.” Tal kissed her on the side of the throat. “I wish we could just stay this way for a few hanticks. We have a lot of time to make up.”

“I know. But you have meetings.”

“No, we have meetings.” Tal gave her an evil grin. “Time to start your challenge, tyrina.”

“You’re serious?”

“When am I not?”

“Often, but let’s not get into that. You told me you were meeting with Colonel Razine; surely you don’t want me sitting in on that?”

“If you were still Raiz Opah, the woman who drove me out the door in delegate meetings, no. But you’re my tyree, and that changes everything. You have the clearance based on my word. I’d be telling you about the meeting anyway, so you might as well attend with me. Besides,” she added, “what else are you going to do until I’m done? I can’t have you getting bored on your challenge moon.”

“Somehow, ‘boring’ is not the word that comes to mind when I think of you.”

Her smile was so beautiful that Tal simply had to kiss her. She still wasn’t used to their new ability to touch without danger; to kiss without keeping half her brain focused on the inevitable flash. It took some time to settle in fully, rather than waiting for a reason to stop; but when she did her sense of Salomen suddenly bloomed, almost as strongly as a Sharing. Their emotions became difficult to separate, nor did Tal have any desire to sort them out. This was the kind of connection she had been needing, that they both had been needing, and this time there were no other people linked to them.

“We have to stop,” murmured Salomen against her lips.

“I know.”

They kissed again, hands tracing curves and brushing through hair, lips seeking hollows and ridges.

“We really have to stop, Andira.”

“Shek.” Tal pulled back, leaving her hands linked around Salomen’s waist. “You’re killing me.”

“Me! I’m not the one who started this.”

“You certainly are. You stood there looking lovelier than anything that has ever been in this room. Was I supposed to resist that?”

Salomen shook her head. “I won’t argue with you. On that topic,” she added quickly. “But you—I mean, we have meetings starting in about ten ticks, don’t we?”

Tal sighed and stepped away. “Yes, we do. We should have left Hol-Opah earlier, but I just couldn’t bear to go.” She picked up one of Salomen’s bags and headed for the large bed at the side of the room. “Let’s at least get you partially settled.”

Salomen followed her with the other bag, setting it on the bed and taking another look around. “This really is lovely.”

“Thank you. I like the space, I must admit. Base quarters are never this large.”

The room was an open plan, with living, cooking and sleeping quarters separated only by visual space. The door opened into the center of the room, where a grouping of antique chairs clustered around a handmade rug. To the right was the kitchen, which also included a vidcom unit and desk on the inside wall. A dining table sat at the far side, under the first of the windows that arched across the curved outer wall. Half-height bookcases lined the entire wall below the windows, their polished wooden tops housing various pieces of art that Tal had picked up in her travels. The sleeping area took up the left part of the room, with the bed facing the windows and set on an enormous, plush rug. A wooden clothing organizer was tucked up against the head of the bed, facing toward the inner wall, its glass doors showing a colorful assortment of clothes and blankets inside.

“You can keep some of your clothes here,” said Tal. “But there’s more room in the closet.”

“There?” Salomen pointed toward the arched doorway to the left of the bed.

“Yes. The bathroom is through there as well.” Tal led the way into the bathroom. “It’s…a little larger than I need.”

“Great Goddess above, an entire unit of Guards could use this bathroom!” Salomen stood in the center of the cavernous tiled room, looking around with awe. “How many guests does a Lancer usually sleep with?”

Tal cleared her throat. “Well…apparently there were some rather large parties in past eras. This one has been rather sedate, I’m afraid.”

“Good. Let’s keep it that way.” Salomen walked past her, brushing an arm along her waist as she did so, and peeked through the doorway set in the right hand wall of the bathroom. “Ah. A closet large enough for that Guard unit as well.”

Tal followed her into the closet, which was brightly lit by a continuation of the same large windows as in the main room. “As you can see, there’s plenty of room for anything you’d like to bring. In my earlier cycles I had entire housing units that would have fit into this closet. I couldn’t fill this in a lifetime.”

“Oh, but what you do have is top of the pile,” said Salomen. She walked over to one of the wall racks and pulled out Tal’s most formal suit. “I’ve never actually seen an all-black suit before. You must look spectacular in this.”

Tal sidled up to her. “If we didn’t have meetings, I could put it on for you now…and you could take it off again.”

Salomen let the suit swing back in. “Don’t tempt me.” With a look of warning, she strode past Tal to the main room, returning a moment later with both bags. “At least unpacking won’t take long,” she said. “It’s not as if I need to find space.”

True to her word, she was fully unpacked by the time they left their quarters for the first meeting. Tal kept stealing sideways glances at her as they walked down the corridor to the lift, marveling that she was actually here. The moon at Hol-Opah had been a complete departure from Tal’s normal life, making it somehow easier to accept the radical changes that becoming tyree had wrought. After all, everything had been different then. But now she was back at the State House, settling into what used to be her normal life, and Salomen’s presence was a brilliant, overwhelming reminder of just how much had really changed. Some of it she could have done without, but the rest—the rest was a gift so great that no amount of oil could ever convey her gratitude to Fahla.

 

 

-----

 

 

Aldirk checked his wristcom as he hurried down the corridor. When the Lancer still hadn’t arrived at the State House by mid-three, he’d been certain she would cancel her meeting with him and had already made other plans. The notification that she had flown in a bare twenty ticks before their meeting gave him precious little time to change his plans back again. He was rushed, out of breath, and more than a little perturbed. But he would not allow the Lancer to sense him in such a state. Sunsa Aldirk prided himself on the strength of his front.

He knocked and heard the familiar “Enter.” Opening the door, he saw at a glance that the chair behind the desk was empty. He stepped in, turned toward the conference table and stopped in his tracks.

“Aldirk.” Lancer Tal was sitting at the table, smiling at him. “I would like to introduce Raiz Salomen Opah. Salomen, this is Chief Counselor Sunsa Aldirk.”

Aldirk stared at the woman next to the Lancer, hoping his front could hide his surprise. Of course he recognized her. He knew all about her. Just this morning he’d arranged today’s little demonstration of her status to the media.

What he didn’t know, and what had startled him into momentary silence, was that she was an extremely powerful empath. He had not detected anyone in this room prior to walking in. While that was normal for the Lancer, it was most decidedly not normal for a producer. No producer had a front like that. It just didn’t happen.

After what seemed like an embarrassingly obvious amount of time, Aldirk recovered himself enough to offer a short bow. “Raiz Opah, it is a pleasure to meet you at last.”

“The pleasure is mine, Counselor Aldirk,” said Opah. She offered him what appeared to be a genuine smile. “I’ve heard a great deal about you. Andira says that she could not do her job without you.”

“Well, I could,” said Lancer Tal, “but it would be a great deal more difficult.”

Aldirk was still off balance from hearing the Lancer referred to as Andira. “Thank you,” he said faintly. “I do my best.”

Tal tilted her head to one side. “Is something wrong, Aldirk?”

“No, no.” He forced his legs to move toward the table, pulling out a chair and sitting down with considerable relief. “I had not realized we would have a guest at our meeting.”

“She’s not a guest,” said the Lancer. “That’s part of what we’ll be discussing in this meeting.”

“Ah,” said Aldirk. “This is the second phase of your challenge. I had not realized that you meant to include Raiz Opah in all of your meetings.” He was reasonably certain that his disapproval did not show.

“Originally I did not,” she said. “But circumstances have changed. Salomen will be here for more than just the challenge moon, Aldirk. And she’s more than just my lover, this morning’s media show notwithstanding.” She glanced at the producer, her expression showing an open warmth that Aldirk had never seen before. “She’s my bondmate.”

“Your…” Aldirk sat back in his chair. “I do apologize, Lancer Tal. I’m simply surprised. Your bondmate?”

She nodded. “I received inclusion from her family today. So I’ll need your assistance in planning a bonding ceremony. I’d like you to fly out to Hol-Opah tomorrow and meet with Salomen’s father and brother. They have absolutely no idea what to expect in a State ceremony and will benefit from your expertise.”

“Very well.” Aldirk covered his dismay with efficiency as he whipped out his reader card and began taking notes. “What is your timeline for this ceremony?”

“First decision,” said the Lancer to Opah. “What would you prefer?”

“My preference is probably not going to be popular,” said Opah. “The best time of the cycle for me to be focusing on a big event is right now. This is the quietest moon of the cycle for us. Next moon we begin planting the winter crop; that wouldn’t work at all. But the moon after is a possibility.”

“This moon is impossible,” said the Lancer, shaking her head. “Aldirk can work miracles, but even he couldn’t manage that one. We’ll be bringing in people from all over Alsea, and quite a few of them have schedules planned a cycle in advance. We’ll have to give more notice than just a few ninedays.”

“Then it will have to be the moon after next.”

“You’re sure that will work for you and your family?”

Opah thought for a few moments. “Yes,” she decided, “it would.”

The Lancer looked back at Aldirk. “Looks like we can plan it for two moons from now.”

Aldirk was torn between relief at the two-moon reprieve and utter horror that he was being compelled to schedule a State bonding ceremony around a crop planting. He channeled a tremendous amount of energy into strengthening his front; this meeting was taxing it to the utmost of his ability. “One moment,” he said briskly as he pulled up the Lancer’s calendar. “Rosslin is the final moon before bringing the replicators online; you have a number of appearances scheduled. But…” He shifted a few appointments around. “If we move two meetings and one appearance off the twenty-seventh day, we can—”

“Wait,” interrupted Lancer Tal. She had a strange look of excitement as she pulled out her reader card and began tapping away. “Oh, yes,” she murmured under her breath. “Fahla, that would be perfect!” She looked up with glittering eyes. “Make it the fourteenth day, Aldirk.”

He checked his reader card. “That’s not a good day. You have five—”

“Make it a good day,” she said firmly. “That’s the day I want.”

“What makes that day so important?” asked Opah, voicing Aldirk’s thoughts.

Lancer Tal grinned. “It’s a red moon.”

“Ohhh,” said Opah and Aldirk.

“Excellent,” said Aldirk approvingly. “A perfect symbolic occasion. Of course, the ceremony would have to be at night.”

“My thoughts exactly.” The Lancer turned to her bondmate. “How would you feel about a bonding ceremony at Whitemoon Temple?”

“Really?” At the Lancer’s nod, Opah gave her a brilliant smile. “That would be nothing short of a dream. My mother always wanted to go there, but somehow it never happened. I would love to have our ceremony there.”

“Nashta will be there,” said the Lancer, placing a hand over Opah’s heart. “You carry her here. She’ll be with you.”

Aldirk was startled to witness such a gentle and loving gesture from the woman he knew only as an impenetrable leader. The Lancer’s front was as strong as ever, but anyone with a grain of ability to read body language could see her feelings for Opah. Aldirk couldn’t begin to understand how it had happened, but it was clear that Lancer Tal was actually in love.

He redirected his attention to his reader card, stifling a smile. Lancer Tal in love! He would have to reassess his lifelong cynicism regarding Fahla’s attention toward Alsea. Apparently she was still producing miracles after all.

 

 

 

 

---

chapter 40

 

 

“How often do you sit through those?” asked Salomen, several hanticks later.

“I debrief with Aldirk at least every other day, if not every day,” said Tal. She stretched in her chair and dropped her hands into her lap, her posture far more slumped than normal. “It depends on my schedule. And even when we don’t meet, he has a report waiting for me every morning. As for Colonel Razine, we’re meeting a lot more often these days, for obvious reasons. She’s got a lot on her desk between the search for Herot and her other investigation. I’m seeing Counselor Miltorin more often as well. This was a short day, Salomen. I see an average of three to five Council members every day, and advisors as well, in addition to the planned group advisor meetings, the remaining delegate meetings, and of course the Council meetings.”

“Great Goddess,” said Salomen. “That’s not even sane. Your life is meetings!”

Tal grinned. “You’re seeing that already; good. You learn fast. Ready for an entire moon of this?”

“Not in the slightest. But I am ready to go back to our quarters.” She stood and extended a hand. “May I escort you home?”

Tal allowed herself to be pulled up. “You may,” she said. “Do you remember the way?”

In answer, Salomen led them out the door, pausing long enough for Tal to palmlock it before resuming their trek through the corridors. It was late and there were few people left in their offices on the main level; a circumstance for which Tal was profoundly grateful. She did not relish the idea of being stopped now and doubted that she could carry on a civil conversation. She and Salomen had waited too long for this to be delayed by anything less important than a military coup.

Outside her quarters, Tal unlocked the palm pad. “Here, let me program you,” she said as she began entering the key commands. A wrist closed around her own, stopping her progress.

“Not now,” said Salomen firmly.

Tal laughed as she was nearly yanked off her feet, but her merriment was abruptly halted by a pair of soft lips. The door hadn’t even finished closing before they were lost in each other, picking up precisely where they’d left off four hanticks earlier. For several ticks there was nothing in their minds but the sensations of lips and skin and curves, each of them absorbing the other’s excitement in an empathic connection that they couldn’t have stopped even if they’d wanted to.

“Fahla, you feel good,” murmured Tal. She ran her hands down Salomen’s sides, settling in the gentle curve of her waist and pulling her closer. Unsatisfied, she slid one hand up to the center of Salomen’s back and the other down to her backside, crushing their bodies together as she kissed her with an ever-increasing heat.

Salomen’s hands were wandering as well, seemingly unable to stay in any one place for long. “So do you,” she whispered against Tal’s lips. “And how is it that you still smell like you just stepped out of the shower?” She kissed her way down to Tal’s throat and sucked gently.

Tal dropped her head back. “Because I did nothing today besides sit on my backside.”

Salomen chuckled into her ear, then pulled on the lobe with her teeth. “That’s about to change,” she breathed, and Tal shivered. With an effort, she broke away and held Salomen at arm’s length, her entire body trembling with anticipation.

“You have too many clothes on,” she said in a raspy voice, “and I can’t concentrate on undressing you when you’re doing that.”

“Then undress me quickly.”

Never in her life had Tal been so happy to obey an order. She pushed Salomen’s dress jacket off her shoulders and began unbuttoning her shirt even before the jacket had come all the way off. Salomen lowered her arms, letting the jacket fall to the floor, and stood waiting as Tal finished the last button at her hip. It was a wrap shirt, designed to present a smooth front while buttoning at the sides, and Tal held her breath as she slowly pulled the top layer away. The underlying layer still covered half of Salomen’s torso, buttoning at the opposite hip; but as soft skin and a perfect breast were revealed, Tal thought it was a good thing she wasn’t seeing everything at once. Her heart might not survive the experience.

She touched her lips to Salomen’s stomach, right above the bottom edge of the shirt, and traced the diagonal line it made across her torso. As her mouth gently brushed the inside curve of Salomen’s breast, she heard a sharp intake of air.

“This isn’t quickly.” Salomen threaded her fingers through Tal’s hair.

“I tried,” Tal murmured against soft skin. “But I cannot rush this.” She followed the line of the shirt to Salomen’s shoulder, dropped one last kiss, and pulled back to gaze at the loveliness beneath her hands. “You look like a sculpture. Feminine perfection, exposed just enough to tantalize the viewer, but not enough to reveal her full beauty.” She reached for the last buttons. “It feels like I’ve waited forever for this.”

“At least one of us is getting what she wants.”

Tal looked up to see the quirked eyebrow and half-smile that she’d come to love. Returning her attention to the buttons, she undid the last one and reverently pulled the cloth away. Pushing the shirt off Salomen’s arms, she took a moment to simply stare. “So perfect…” She brushed light fingertips across Salomen’s skin before gently cupping her breasts. “Beautiful is not a sufficient word.”

“Thank you,” whispered Salomen.

Tal shook her head. “That is not a compliment. It’s the truth. And I’m still not quite believing that I can touch you like this without flying halfway across the room.”

“I’d like to find out how that feels myself,” said Salomen, stopping Tal’s hands with her own. “And I’m not standing here for inspection while you’re still wearing a full uniform.” She reached for the side zipper of Tal’s jacket and made no pretense of patience as she unzipped it and pushed it off her shoulders. Tal barely managed to get her arms out of the sleeves without losing her balance as Salomen pulled the jacket toward her, holding it up with a triumphant expression.

“I love you in this,” she said. An extremely sexy smile weakened Tal’s knees as she added, “But I love you even more out of it.” She dropped the jacket in an untidy heap and began undoing the shirt buttons at the side of Tal’s throat. Tugging the bottom of the shirt from her pants, she hastily pulled it over Tal’s head and stopped, her mouth partly open as she stared. “Goddess above,” she whispered as the shirt slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor. “Andira…”

The sense of urgency was gone, replaced by an awe that had Salomen reaching out almost tentatively. She touched Tal’s shoulders, tracing the curves to her arms, then slid her hands down her arms and laced their fingers together. Pulling Tal toward her, she leaned in to kiss her collarbone, chest ridge, and finally her breast.

Tal closed her eyes at the sensation and just as quickly opened them again; she had waited too long for this to miss seeing any of it. She wanted it to last forever while she took in every detail. But the sight of Salomen at her breast, combined with their mingled arousal, was such a potent mix that she could barely force herself to stay still. She stood it for as long as she could, but all too soon was pulling Salomen up again, her need for that connection stronger than her desire for the incredible sensations Salomen was producing.

Their lips met with a mutual hunger neither of them had allowed themselves until now. Tal threw aside all of her prior self-restraint and felt Salomen do the same; then she realized that the raging need fueling her was not entirely her own. Their emotions had merged. She pulled back with a gasp and stared into wide, half-glazed brown eyes.

“Bed,” said Salomen in a choked voice.

Tal swallowed hard and nodded. They held onto each other as they stumbled toward the large bed beneath the windows, partially out of a desperate desire to stay connected and partially because they needed the support. Salomen gave her a rather forceful push onto the bed, but Tal caught herself just in time.

“No,” she said, and felt Salomen’s dazed confusion.

“No? What—”

“My back.”

“Oh.” Her distress was sharp, cutting effortlessly through the sexual haze. “I’m so sorry, Fahla, I wasn’t thinking—”

“No, Salomen, I’m fine.” Tal caught her shoulders and held her. “I’m fine. Just don’t throw me on the bed.”

Salomen looked into her eyes for several pipticks, absorbing what Tal was sending her. Her self-castigation abated as the tension left her shoulders. “All right,” she said. “I won’t throw you on the bed. This time.” Tal watched in fascination as she flashed that sexy smile again.

“I’ve never seen you smile like that. And a good thing, too. If I had, I could never have kept my hands off you. We probably would have fried all of our empathic senses.”

“You fried yours anyway,” Salomen pointed out as she urged Tal into a seated position on the edge of the bed. “Much as I love this look, you still have too much clothing on.”

“I’ll get those,” protested Tal as Salomen began unzipping her boots.

Salomen looked up. “You’re uncomfortable,” she said in surprise.

“I’m just…not accustomed to the idea of you doing that. It doesn’t seem right.”

Salomen stood up, gently pushed Tal onto her back, and crawled right over her. “Why?” she asked.

Tal found concentration elusive as she focused on the two perfect breasts dangling within a mouth-watering range. “I…ah…” She gave up and reached for her prize, only to find them pulled away. Salomen sat astride her hips, taking advantage of her position to caress all sorts of sensitive places while Tal’s body shivered and twitched.

“Why isn’t it right?” Salomen persisted.

“Because…” Tal closed her eyes. “If you really want me to explain, you’ll have to stop what you’re doing.”

“Oh, but it’s such fun to feel you trying so hard to think.” Salomen skimmed her fingertips across Tal’s breasts and chuckled softly at the reaction.

Tal opened her eyes again to see what looked very much like a smug grin on her tyree’s face. “You realize that you’re only getting away with this because I’m under medical orders.”

“And I plan to press my advantage as far as I possibly can.” Salomen crouched down and slid forward, brushing her breasts along Tal’s torso and nearly sending her airborne. “Now tell me,” she said, propping herself on her elbows.

“I cannot believe you want to talk about this now.” Tal sighed in theatrical resignation. “When I was a fresh trainee, brand new in my unit, I went through all the usual rites inflicted on young warriors. Most of them were designed to teach humility. And one of them was an obligation to remove the boots of any older trainee who demanded it.”

“So taking off your boots is the behavior of a subordinate.”

Tal nodded. “And you are not my subordinate in any way.”

“No, I’m not.” Salomen pushed herself up just enough to take Tal’s mouth in a passionate kiss. Tal’s hands found their way into Salomen’s hair, holding her head close as she explored the soft mouth above her own. They were both breathing hard when Salomen finally broke off.

“I will take off your boots because I want to, not because you demand it,” she said. “Power works both ways, Andira. Did it never occur to you that while you held the bare foot and leg of an older trainee in your hands, you had an advantage?”

Tal stared at her in shock. “Have you been talking to Micah?”

Salomen laughed. “Quite a lot, actually, while you were in the health center. You were sleeping much of the time. I understand you better than I did before.”

“I think I’m nervous now.”

“No, you’re not.” Salomen kissed her again. “I’m sensing a lot of things, but nervousness is not in the mix.” Gracefully she slid off the bed and returned her attention to Tal’s boots. Tal sat up and watched, aroused by the sight. This was an act of humility, one that she had learned to hate from her first days as a trainee, yet Salomen’s own strength of character had changed it into something completely different. It was caring and sexy all at the same time, and Tal found her respect for Salomen rising to an even higher level.

“Just when I thought I could not admire you more,” she said quietly.

Salomen pulled off the second boot. “And we haven’t really gotten started,” she said, her fingers busy at the fastening of Tal’s uniform pants. “Let’s see how you feel by the end.”

Tal lifted her hips and allowed her pants to be tugged off, along with her underwear. As Salomen stood up and stared, Tal felt a sudden resurgence of her normal self-confidence. Relaxing onto her back, she looked up at Salomen as she propped one foot on the edge of the bed and ran her fingertips up and down her thigh. “Do you plan to stand there all evening?”

“Oh, no,” breathed Salomen. “I definitely do not plan to stand here.” She kicked off her shoes and had her own pants off in record time. Tal took the opportunity to pull herself the rest of the way onto the bed, and a moment later Salomen joined her, stretching out beside her with her head propped on one hand. Their faces were separated by less than a handspan, and Tal studied the beauty that was so tantalizingly close.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I was wrong in that field. You are my dream.”

“Fahla knew what she was doing after all.” Salomen ran a light finger down Tal’s jawline. “You are mine as well.”

Tal caught her hand, pressed it to her lips, and pushed up onto all fours. A moment later she was astride Salomen, grinning as brown eyes instantly focused on her breasts. “Is this what you wanted?” she asked, lowering herself until her breasts were barely out of reach of Salomen’s open mouth. Just as Salomen lifted her head, Tal pulled back. “Not yet,” she whispered. “I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“And I don’t?” Salomen’s voice cracked as Tal began kissing and gently biting her waist, sides, the ridge just above each breast…and then reversing direction before coming within range of a certain questing mouth. “Andira, this is cruel. Just give me one tick, please.”

Tal made no answer, but the next time she worked her way upward she did not stop at the chest ridges. Her movements became more urgent as their arousal merged again, and she left marks on Salomen’s throat without meaning to. She bit Salomen on the jaw before taking her mouth in a fiery kiss, then deliberately pushed further still until her breasts were positioned right over Salomen’s face.

“Thank Fahla,” breathed Salomen, reaching out with both hands and lifting her head. Tal closed her eyes at the sensation of warm lips on one breast and a firm hand on the other. She gave herself over to pure sensual enjoyment, both hers and Salomen’s, and might have stayed there for a hantick had an urgent desire of her own not taken precedence. Ignoring Salomen’s groaned complaint, she pulled out of reach.

“You said one tick,” she admonished.

“I didn’t think you’d time it!”

Tal ran her tongue along a chest ridge. “I didn’t. We have all night, Salomen.” Just to make her point, she abandoned Salomen’s torso entirely and moved down to her legs, running her fingertips along them with a light touch. Though the burn marks were faint, Tal was looking through the eyes of a new lover and saw them all too clearly. Her sorrow rose again, but Salomen was there instantly, smoothing her emotions with her own acceptance. Tal bent to kiss the marks, her lips touching them with all the tenderness in her heart, the act soothing her in a way she hadn’t expected and did not question. Continuing the trail of soft kisses, she slowly moved up Salomen’s legs, studiously ignoring the way they shifted apart and invited further exploration. Instead she focused on the soft skin of her tyree’s side, noting the sensitive places and coming back to revisit them again and again, loving the way Salomen’s breathing hitched every time. At last she straightened, watching Salomen’s flushed face and half-closed eyes with a mixture of awe and pride. She was the reason for that expression; it was her hands and mouth that had left this amazing woman limp with pleasure.

Salomen reached up, brushing Tal’s face with her hand, sliding it down her throat and onto her chest, drawing a line of fire between her breasts. But Tal saw her intent and stopped the hand before it could go any further. “No,” she said. “It’s still my turn.” She shifted, straddling Salomen’s body, and bent to take a nipple into her mouth. The gasp from Salomen was arousing enough, but when Tal pushed the nipple out and then forcefully sucked it back in, she heard a cry that sent a wave of heat surging through her. Salomen bucked, her hands coming around Tal’s head and twisting almost painfully into her hair.

“Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” promised Tal.

She lost all track of time in her worship of Salomen’s breasts. It was now impossible to tell how much of the white-hot arousal she was feeling was her own, and how much was Salomen’s. She’d never felt anything like this before, not in a mere joining. When a Sharing and a joining were combined, yes, but she and Salomen weren’t there yet. This was simply their normal tyree connection, ratcheted up by several levels because of their physical contact and their excitement.

When she reached down with one hand to caress skin she hadn’t yet explored, Salomen could take no more.

“Andira, please…I need you inside,” she said hoarsely.

Tal lifted her head. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!”

“You really want to take it to that level? I’ve just gotten started.”

Salomen closed her eyes. “If you don’t go inside right now, I will hurt you.”

“All right,” said Tal, trying hard not to smile. An aroused and frustrated Salomen was a sight to behold. “Hold on tight,” she warned.

Salomen gripped the sheets as Tal moved lower, eagerly taking in a loveliness that she had not yet fully examined. Salomen’s stomach was flat enough to show the full length of her pelvic ridges, and Tal followed the converging lines with her fingertips. She had always thought that the apex of these ridges was the most beautiful sight in existence. Nudging Salomen’s legs apart, she saw at a glance that penetration would be effortless, not that she was in the least surprised. And there it was: the sweet curve where the pelvic ridges joined, just above the entrance into Salomen’s body. Gently she slipped two fingers inside, watching in awe as Salomen’s body rose to meet her.

“Yes…” Salomen gasped.

Tal’s fingers fit the inner ridges perfectly. She pulled them nearly out, then pushed them back in as far as she could. With any other lover she would have asked if the depth was all right, but with Salomen there was no need. She felt the explosion of pleasure in her tyree, and began moving her fingers in and out in a slow, forceful motion that stimulated the inner ridges. She saw Salomen’s hands clench, pulling the sheets up.

“Fahla, just like that.” Salomen could barely get the words out.

“Just like this?” asked Tal. “Because I was thinking about trying this instead.” She increased her speed and watched Salomen’s back arch.

“Goddess…”

Tal had never seen anything so beautiful as Salomen’s body moving under her hands. She watched avidly, trying to commit every detail to memory, wanting this first time to be something she could recall for the rest of her days. She varied her motions, never letting Salomen get too much into a rhythm, drawing out the pleasure for both of them. And then her eyes focused on the ridge curve just above her fingers.

Alseans of both genders had this curve. It had many names, but Tal had always preferred molwine, a reference to the sacred tree of Fahla. After all, it was one of Fahla’s greatest gifts to her people. Stimulation of the molwine produced the most exquisite sensations of a joining, but that was not why it was so revered. When manipulated in a very specific way—usually in a private ceremony between bondmates—it stimulated production of gametes. Alsean females and males were both capable of fertilization and gestation, and the molwine enabled them to choose not only when they would have a child, but which bondmate would bear it. It was a reproductive freedom unique to Alseans, a gift that elevated them above all other higher life forms on the planet. And as Tal stared at Salomen’s molwine, she had a sudden vision of the two of them holding their creation ceremony, celebrating the inception of a new life and a family.

My family, she marveled. Someday.

“Fahla, finish this!”

Salomen’s cry of desperation brought her back. Her reverie had taken perhaps a single piptick, but when she looked up at her tyree’s flushed face, she felt such a rush of love that her body ached to communicate it somehow. Slipping her fingers out, she carefully lowered herself onto Salomen’s body, both of them gasping as their molwines made contact. Salomen’s eyes widened as she stared into Tal’s. “It has never felt like this,” she whispered. “Don’t ever stop.”

Tal couldn’t help her smile. “I thought you wanted me to finish it.”

“I do. And I don’t.” She closed her eyes as a wave of sensation ripped through her, bringing her shoulders off the bed. Tal took advantage of the motion to slip her hands beneath Salomen’s shoulders and hold her tightly as they moved together.

“Salomen,” she breathed. “I love you.”

“And I love you.” Salomen’s arms were wrapped around Tal’s back in a painfully tight grip. “My tyrina,” she whispered.

Tal was too caught up in their joining to worry about her back. She slowed her motions, kissing Salomen gently, wanting to tamp down their need, but after a few pipticks Salomen would have no more of it. She surged up to take Tal’s mouth with a ferocity only hinted at before, driving their passion even higher. Then she gripped Tal’s head tightly, forced it to one side, and bit down hard on the sensitive ridge along her neck. The power of that bite would have shocked Tal at any other time, but right now it sent her into the stratosphere. She wanted to climb inside Salomen’s skin; as close as they were, it wasn’t close enough. A second bite made her gasp, and without any conscious thought she freed one arm from beneath their bodies and buried her fingers in Salomen’s hair, wrenching her head back. For a moment she paused, looking at the twin ridges running down each side of Salomen’s throat. They were a potent signal of passion, invisible at any time except during a joining. Now they stood out in sharp relief, begging for attention, and with a growl Tal closed her teeth on the nearest one. The half-scream she heard would have told her precisely how good that felt even if she hadn’t been able to sense the sharp rise in Salomen’s arousal.

“Oh, Fahla, yes…” groaned Salomen. Her head was still trapped in Tal’s grip, and the sight of her exposed throat, her ridges, and her open mouth were making Tal dizzy. Her hips were moving of their own accord; slowing down was not an option. She bit the other throat ridge harder than the first, letting up on the pressure only to work her way down the entire length of it and nearly getting herself bucked off in the process. Salomen’s hoarse cries were soon too much for her, and she returned to swallow them in a heated kiss. When the need for air finally forced her to raise her head, she was mesmerized by the wildness in Salomen’s eyes. Through their connection she knew she looked just the same; Salomen was watching her in wonder. Their gaze never wavered as they moved together in a glorious agony of sensation, gasping for breath and straining for the moment they wanted so desperately. Tal was so focused on the pursuit of their release that she forgot all about Sharing until Salomen reached for her once more. At first she expected to have her head pushed to the side again, but soon realized her mistake when one of Salomen’s hands settled on the back of her neck. As the other touched her cheek and jaw, Tal matched the positions with her own hands and rested their foreheads together.

The Sharing was instantaneous and explosive. If Tal had not been so deeply lost in her sexual haze, she might have pulled back from the sheer shock of it. She’d expected it to be different from their previous two Sharings, which had both had mitigating factors preventing the full experience, but she hadn’t expected anything like this.

Her empathic awareness rocketed outward, surpassing her normal range in the blink of an eye. She was aware of every Alsean in the entire State House complex, as well as those living in the streets nearest the city hub. The sense of so many people all at once was overwhelming, but before Tal could even begin to make sense of it, she fell directly into Salomen. Everything else was shut out as they became a single entity, aware of every emotional nuance and physical sensation shared between them. It was like inhabiting two bodies at the same time—and both of those bodies were exquisitely close to physical release. The sudden wash of Salomen’s love and passion, experienced from the inside with no barriers whatsoever, pushed Tal to the ragged edge. She was Salomen as much as she was herself…they were the same person, the same body, the same gripping need to find release…and then they were there, minds and bodies frozen as everything crashed around them. It seemed to go on for half a hantick, though it could only have been a tick or two, and it drained every bit of energy from both of them. When their bodies were finally released from the spasms that had held them so rigidly, it was all Tal could do not to break their connection. With effort she held it even as her head pounded and her lungs ached for air, and for a few pipticks she felt as if a thick blanket had been thrown over their senses.

“It’s gone,” whispered Salomen breathlessly. “I can’t feel you!”

Tal was surprised; hadn’t Salomen experienced the blackout before? But she’d said as much, Tal remembered, when she’d confessed to never fully letting go in a Sharing.

“It’s not gone,” she said. “We’re just burned out for a moment. Wait; it will come back.”

Almost before the words were out of her mouth, their senses opened up again. This time it wasn’t so explosive, seeming more like a dawning of light over a familiar landscape. They reveled in the exquisite intimacy of their emotions, feeling each other as they felt themselves. A Sharing was the ultimate vulnerability, far more so than any joining, but Tal had never felt less concerned. She floated in the secure embrace of her tyree, knowing with an absolute certainty that Salomen would sooner injure herself than let Tal fall.

“It was never like this,” murmured Salomen. “There’s no division between us—I can hardly tell the difference between you and me.”

“This is how it’s supposed to be,” Tal answered. “This is a true Sharing, tyrina.”

But she was wrong. It wasn’t like any Sharing she’d had before, a fact she realized as soon as they turned their attention outward. The welcome familiarity dropped away; this was an entirely new world. They felt the presence of every life form in the area—from the people still in the State House right down to the smallest bird searching for insects in a tree by the gates—and their range seemed to cover several lengths in any direction without even trying.

By unspoken agreement they expanded their reach, searching for the limits of their combined senses. They soared over Blacksun, taking in millions of lives in their myriad states, and flew past the edge of the city into the fields beyond. They felt predators and prey playing out their lives in the dying light of the day, while nocturnal creatures began to stir from sleep. They felt the primal satisfaction as a nightwing snapped its beak on a large moth, filling its belly for another few ticks while it searched for the next bite. The density of life all around them was bewildering, and in an instinctive reach for something familiar they found themselves at Hol-Opah.

“We’re sixty lengths away,” said Tal in astonishment.

“There’s Father and Nikin, in the parlor as usual,” said Salomen, her joy at sensing her family overwhelming any reaction to their extreme range. “Oh, and Jaros is getting in trouble.”

Sure enough, the youngest Opah was in the kitchen, apparently stealing a sweet snack if his guilt and fear of discovery were any indication. Salomen’s laugh brought Tal’s eyes open, and she jerked her head back in shock.

Their hands were glowing.

Salomen’s eyes snapped open as well, and she gasped. “Andira!”

The Sharing should have ended then—without their foreheads touching, they no longer had a full connection. But their minds were still wrapped together, and they were still impossibly aware of Jaros sneaking upstairs with his prize. Tal tried to take her hands off the energy points, but it was as if they were no longer attached to her body.

“This is what happened at Whitemoon Temple,” she whispered in awe. Her initial surprise had turned to fascination; Fahla’s sign hadn’t been symbolic at all.

“How can this be?”

“I don’t know,” said Tal, watching the glow increasing. Her hands were on fire, a sensation that should have been terrifying given her recent injuries. But there was no pain in this heat.

“It happened at home, too,” said Salomen. “When we Shared with my family. My hands felt warm when I touched you; it almost burned. But not like this.” Her eyes shifted and widened. “Great Fahla above! I can see my bones!”

Tal was staring at hers as well, and saw the glow of Salomen’s hand in her peripheral vision. “If this is like before, it will pass on its own,” she said.

They waited, their minds hovering over Hol-Opah, but the heat in their hands did not abate.

“I have to know,” said Salomen. Tal did not question; she felt the same way. As one they pushed away from Hol-Opah, heading west. If they could not break this connection on their own, then they might as well find out how far it could take them.

Their shared consciousness flew over the remaining fields in Blacksun Valley, reaching the fingers of forest that marked the first change in elevation. A complex web of life was all around them; in the air, on the ground, in the trees; the smallest mouse and the largest treecat alike in basic needs and desires, all of it registering on their enhanced empathic senses.

With no effort Tal and Salomen soared up the steepening slopes of the mountains, aware even of the slow-pulsing life of the trees themselves. They burst over the top of the nearest range, covering the deep space between those peaks and the next before letting themselves slide down the next slope, where they located a stream by the life forms within it. Once again they climbed up, finding and following a herd of winden that were making their unhurried way along a ridgetop.

“So beautiful,” whispered Salomen, voicing Tal’s own thought. To feel a winden! Not to glimpse them running from the shadow of a transport, but to feel them and know that they were heading for a safe place to bed down for the night…it was beyond anything Tal could have dreamed.

They stayed with the winden until the animals stopped, milled around and then began fading in consciousness. Tal thought her perception had reached its limit, but understood a moment later. “They’re going to sleep,” she said in delight.

“Amazing.” Salomen was just as entranced. They hovered until the whole herd was sleeping, just for the sheer joy of sharing this intimate moment in the lives of the most elusive animals on Alsea. When the last winden slumbered they moved off, soaring over ridge after ridge, until they reached the final mountains in the range. Just as they flew over a peak and began descending to the plains below, their perceptions dimmed. Tal looked at her hands and saw their glow dimming as well, and in another piptick the incredible vision was gone.

“Great Goddess,” whispered Salomen, lifting her hands and watching them tremble. “What in the name of all that grows was that?”

“I don’t know.” Tal pushed off, carefully turning onto her back and relaxing her strained muscles with a gusty sigh. “But it was incredible. Like we multiplied our powers instead of just adding them together.”

“It must be part of the tyree bond.” Salomen rolled onto her side, and Tal turned her head to meet her eyes.

“I don’t think it’s part of a normal tyree bond.”

“We’re not normal tyrees.”

“Yes, well, I don’t think it’s normal even for our kind of tyree.”

They fell silent, their hands seeking each other in the quiet dimness.

“We must have covered two hundred lengths,” said Salomen after a long pause.

“At least. We were nearly to Pollonius, and that’s two hundred and forty by transport.”

Another pause.

“I wonder—” they began simultaneously, then laughed.

“Only one way to find out,” said Tal.

“Are you up to it?”

“Tsk. When will the producer learn to stop asking the warrior such questions?”

“When the warrior learns she does not need to be invincible with her tyree,” said Salomen. “Soon, I hope.”

Tal smiled and turned onto her side. “I’m up to it.”

They scooted closer together and reached out, connecting their energy points. A slight hesitation betrayed their uncertainty.

“I’m half afraid we won’t be able to,” said Salomen, “and half afraid we will.”

“I know,” whispered Tal. They watched each other a few pipticks longer, then closed their eyes and touched their foreheads together.

This time the shock was not so pronounced, but Tal was still jolted by the outward explosion of their awareness. They hovered in place, simply feeling without seeking, and soon realized that their immediate range had a radius of nearly thirty lengths. It was bewildering to feel so many lives all at once, but the different emotional levels enabled them to screen out Alseans from other life forms quite easily. After a few ticks they found that they could choose not to be aware of anything but Alseans, much like tuning out a constant source of background noise. With that filter in place, the emotional landscape came into a sharper focus.

Tal opened her eyes to find their hands glowing again. This time the sight seemed reassuring rather than shocking; a measure of the energy flowing between them and enabling their newly expanded powers. Salomen’s eyes opened as well, flicking from her hands to Tal’s face, and she smiled. “Where shall we go?” she asked.

“South,” said Tal. “The ocean is five hundred and twenty lengths. Shall we see if we can reach it?”

“You want to double our distance? You are a warrior. Always pushing it.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t want to know.”

A quiet laugh. “Of course I do.”

They sped over the valley floor, each small producer community shining like a beacon with the glow of so many lives concentrated together. Other Alseans dotted the countryside, in transports, walking in fields, and on a few occasions, joined together in an emotional blend that could only be a Sharing in progress.

“I feel a bit like a voyeur,” whispered Salomen as they passed over another couple, Sharing in the field behind a small holding house.

“Is it voyeurism if we’re not actually looking?”

Salomen was too distracted by their rise over the mountains to respond. She was reaching out, looking for other forms of life now that they’d left the inhabited lands behind. They did not find any windens this time, though they were highly entertained by a family of treecats. The mother’s exasperation with her kittens, who refused to come down from their tree, was surprisingly similar to the same emotion in an Alsean. Tal was curious as to whether they could influence other life forms, so she gave one of the kittens an empathic nudge. It promptly skittered down the tree and was received by its mother with a mixture of affection, relief and irritation, after which it pranced around proudly. Soon the other two came down as well, and the entire family moved off as the mother’s brain shifted into hunting mode.

“That was amazing,” breathed Salomen. “The emotions are the same. Not nearly so complex as ours, but undeniably the same general feeling.”

“Are you ever going to be able to slaughter a fanten again?” Tal felt Salomen’s instant horror as if it were her own.

“Oh, Fahla. Not like this, to be sure. Suddenly I’m relieved that we have to Share to reach this level.”

“Me too.”

They passed the final peak and found themselves soaring over the rain forest that stretched from the southern mountains to the coast. With experimentation, they discovered that if they did not use energy focusing in on specific life forms, they could move across the emotional landscape more quickly. They were already farther than they’d gone the first time, but Tal’s hope of reaching the coast was dashed. Their awareness faded along with the glow of their hands, and they dropped their tired arms onto the bed.

“It’s so strange,” said Salomen. “What was normal now feels…confined, somehow. Like being in a transport with the doors and windows shut, so that you can’t hear anything outside.”

“And just think—we’ve been in that transport our whole lives and never even known there was anything to be heard outside.” Tal rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling in the dimness. “What a gift.”

“We need to know more about it.”

“Agreed. But I’m not sure where we’ll find the information. Aldirk did an entire literature search and didn’t come across anything like this.”

“But he wasn’t looking for it.”

Tal frowned in thought. “No, he was looking for instances of mutual signs of illness or injury. But he would have mentioned this if he’d come across it.”

“Maybe his search was too narrow.”

“Maybe. I’ll ask him to do another tomorrow. And I’ll call Instructor Dalsen, though I’m certain he doesn’t know. Still, he might have some insights. And I owe him an update; I’m sure he’s worried after our last conversation.”

Salomen’s hand curled over Tal’s. “And what will you tell him?”

Tal rolled over, taking in the features of a face that had become more precious to her than anything else in existence. “Why, every detail, of course,” she said, just to elicit one of those lovely smiles.

It worked. “In that case,” said Salomen, “I want to be there for that call. Because I don’t believe you could do anything of the sort without blushing.” Tracing soft designs on Tal’s palm, she added, “That was…amazing. All of it. Even without the unbelievable Sharing, this joining wasn’t like any I’ve ever had.”

“Part of it was because we were so connected. I felt everything you felt.” Tal caught Salomen’s hand and began her own caresses. “But that wasn’t all of it. The rest was just you. You’re incredibly beautiful.”

Salomen stilled Tal’s hand, brought it to her mouth and kissed it. “So are you, tyrina.”

“It was worth the wait, then?”

“You know it was.” Salomen gave her a gentle bump with her head. “Even though you made me wait much longer than necessary.”

“I have no idea what you mean. We were joining almost before the door shut. How much faster do you want it? Ohhh…you wanted to join in my office? You should have said something.”

Another head bump. “Don’t be obtuse. You dragged things out until I had to ask for what I wanted.”

“And you have no idea how sexy that was. I suspected you’d have no difficulty telling me what you wanted. You did it often enough in the fields.” Tal yelped and catapulted herself backwards as fingernails raked up her ribcage. “No!” she laughed. “Stop it!”

“I swear you’re a grainbird sometimes.” Salomen slid across the bed in pursuit as Tal batted her hands away. “I think the true lie of the Lancer is that you’re grown up at all.” She surged forward, grabbed Tal around the shoulders and rolled herself on top. Smiling down, she added, “And I love that you show that to me.”

Tal wrapped her arms around her back. “You and Micah; you’re the only ones. You’ve singlehandedly doubled the number of people I’m truly comfortable with.”

Salomen’s smile faded. “I thought I was the lonely one. How could I not have seen it in you?”

“Because we were lonely in different ways. And you weren’t looking for it. I didn’t see your loneliness either; not at first. Both of us are very good at hiding it. We’ve had a lifetime to practice.”

“I suppose that’s true,” said Salomen after a moment’s thought. “I never considered that there would be different varieties.”

“Of course there are,” said Tal. “And you aren’t the only lonely one in your family. At least, not since Nashta’s Return.”

“No, we’ve all been lost without her. Mother was the glue that held our family together. We had our own relationships, some better and some worse, but Mother was always the center of it all.” A spark zipped through her emotions and she rolled them onto their sides. “I’m sorry, I keep forgetting about your back. Is it all right?”

“It’s fine,” said Tal. “You know you’d feel it if it weren’t. Don’t worry.”

Salomen raised an eyebrow. “You realize that I’ll be worrying about you until the day of my own Return, don’t you? That comes with the deal.”

“I know.” Tal brushed a strand of hair off Salomen’s cheek. “That’s part of your character. And I strongly suspect it was part of Nashta’s as well.”

“It was. She worried about all of us. Herot most of all.” The thought brought a shard of regret. “I wish Herot could have known you like this.”

“I don’t!”

Salomen chuckled. “You know what I mean. I wish he could have seen you as you really are, instead of just the Lancer. It would have made all the difference.”

“Perhaps,” said Tal. “But I didn’t trust him from the moment I met him. And where there’s no trust, there’s very little of me beyond the professional.”

“Believe me, I know that.” Salomen slid her fingertips across Tal’s shoulder and down her arm. “I’m not saying you could have done it any differently, or that he didn’t create this mess all by himself. I’m just…sad that it happened the way it did. And sad to think that if he knew you the way I do, he’d like you a great deal. At least, the Herot I used to know would have.”

Tal watched her in silence, absorbing her shifting emotions. She felt the tears rising even before the first one slipped from Salomen’s eye, and her finger was there to catch it before it could fall. “I’m sorry, tyrina,” she whispered, helpless to say any more than that.

“I know.” Salomen sniffed and wiped her cheek. “Sorry to be so maudlin on this night of all times.”

“Come here.” Tal shifted onto her back and tugged on her tyree. Salomen came willingly, nestling her head on Tal’s shoulder and sniffing again. Tal stroked her soft hair and kissed her forehead, projecting love and support until she felt it taking hold. “You don’t ever need to apologize for your emotions,” she whispered. “Not to me. They are what they are, and I can’t think of any time in this last moon when they didn’t do you credit. If you could write off your brother without a second thought, you would not be the person I love.”

Salomen pulled the sheet up and used it to dab the tears from her cheeks. “I hate this. Half the time I want to kill him myself, and the other half I’m worried sick.” She pushed the sheet back and wrapped her arm around Tal’s torso. “And I’m angry that he’s interfered with so much of our time together.”

“Not to mention worried about Colonel Razine’s report.” Which, unfortunately, had been half a hantick of outlining where Herot was not, rather than where he was. Razine was frustrated at the lack of progress, and incredulous that a mere producer could be evading her net. They had traced him as far as Napoline, a small city on the southern coast of Argolis, and after that it was as if he’d vanished from Alsea. Searches of all the northern ports of Pallea had shown no sign of him.

“Yes. How is he doing this? Herot doesn’t have the skills to evade high empaths. He doesn’t know anything about staying out of the system. I don’t understand how he could still be out there after five days. That more than anything else makes me question my belief in him. I just don’t think he could be evading the AIF if he was the man I thought he was.”

“Do you agree with Razine that someone is helping him?”

“No, but I might not be the right person to ask. I know he was spending his nights drinking with the dregs of Granelle, including Cullom Bilsner. But they’re all Granelle boys. None of them could possibly be providing this kind of help. If he met someone else, someone from outside Granelle, I wouldn’t know about it.”

“We’ll find him,” said Tal, stroking Salomen’s arm and shoulder. “One way or another, we’ll find him. And then we’ll know.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” whispered Salomen.

Tal kissed the top of her head and held her tightly. Relaxing back into her pillow, she resumed her light stroking, firmly pushing Herot out of her mind and focusing on the woman she was holding right now. As her fingertips traced patterns along soft skin, a memory surfaced and she smiled. Salomen stirred in her arms.

“What is it?” she asked.

Kissing her again, Tal said, “I was just remembering a fantasy I had about you the night of our first date.”

Salomen shifted so she could see Tal’s eyes. “Oh really? This I have to hear.”

“It’s not what you’re thinking. Actually, it was relatively innocent. I was walking across the field to my transport, and I had a sudden vision of you in bed, covered by a sheet. You were waiting for me, smiling up at me, and your shoulders were bare, which was just the sexiest thing I could imagine. It hinted at everything you had in store for me. And then I picked you up for our date—”

“And I was wearing a dress that left my shoulders bare,” finished Salomen. “No wonder you were stumbling all over yourself.”

“I was not stumbling.”

“You were. I’m sorry, oh great Lancer, but you were. And it was impossibly endearing.”

“Hmph.” Tal tried to pretend annoyance, but Salomen just laughed.

“So bare shoulders turn you on?” she asked, pushing up on one elbow.

Tal’s eyes slid from her shoulders to the shadowed breasts visible beneath the sheet. “Yours do. Among other things.”

“Tell me about those other things,” whispered Salomen, leaning down to kiss Tal on the side of the throat. “Tell me what it takes to make these ridges come out again.”

The mere words had Tal shivering. “With you, not much.”

Gentle teeth pulled at her ear lobe. “Come, my Lancer. I know you can be more specific than that.”

It was difficult to think with Salomen’s voice in her ear. “Are we going to get any sleep tonight?” she asked, stalling for time.

A soft chuckle sent more shivers down to her toes. “Not if I have anything to say about it.”

As it turned out, Salomen had a great deal to say.

 

 

 

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